Cheer for Your Sins
by ChinkinArmour11
Summary: A fallen prince, a broken sheriff, and a trapped queen embark on a journey to atone for the wrongs they've committed? Will they be successful or will their efforts be for naught? Is all that's transpired their own doing or is there a much darker force at play stirring the pot? Dark!Henry. AU. Beginning of the End.
1. Chapter 1

"His behavior has been off tact lately and teachers, including I, are worried about him."

"What are you saying?"

"Not to sound rude but he has been becoming a nuisance in some of his classes."

"So? Kids usually are, let alone teens. So forgive me, but I don't see the problem here. He's being a bit defiant, ok… I can set that astray. But you're making this sound more serious than it is."

A heavy sigh releases from her mouth; more of frustration than resignation. She avoids the other's gaze for a few moments going over things of what to say in a delicate manner. Ever since her majesty's death the sheriff has been more than a little temperamental. "Look, Ms. Swan if I may,"

The blonde tenses at that. Her jaw clenches as she subtly hides her balled fists in her lap clenching and unclenching at erratic paces. No one, _no one_ has her called her that in so long that it tightens her chest threateningly.

"Please, just sheriff or Emma." Her voice is constricted and devoid of emotion that it even sets her off some.

"Yes, my pardon. Emma…. Just talk to him. I'm sure it's still rather tough on him that his other mother is deceased, but much time has passed for his grief to dissipate some at least. He's going to need a firm hand to show him the correct way."

"Are you insinuating that my parenting is lacking?"

"No, not at all. All I'm saying is—"

"Forget it. I'll talk to him. Thanks for this impromptu chit chat." And with that all that was left was to get the hell out of this place and supposedly talk to her son.

* * *

They were in the cruiser now—since she was called down to the school during patrol—and was warily letting her eyes wander over to her son in the passenger seat. He was turned away from her staring blankly out the window sighing lowly every few moments as if something was on his mind. He wasn't that little boy that showed up at her door step year ago or the boy that was flustered on asking a girl out on a date back in Camelot. No. He simply wasn't one to recognize anymore really if Emma was frank.

He was now her height with hair long need for a cut. It was never groomed but more feral and occasionally dyed to his liking; an angry red. Currently there were shades here and there. His clothing attire wasn't as it were before but now heavy blacks and greys and few colors if he was up to it and you were around to witness it. They were detached, he and her. She gripped the steering wheel from these reeling thoughts in her head. Her everlasting mantra echoing in the back of her mind, 'Where did I go wrong?' But if the blonde was being candid, she knew but didn't want to delve into that; that's how much of a coward she became. So much so that she was berating herself in her mind when quiet was around (which was practically every day at the station with occasional phone calls rescuing her) and staring for long at her reflection almost every morning getting herself and the kid ready. You can say she was depressed, downcast, and crestfallen from another's perspective. But to herself she was simply an empty shell waiting to be blown away like ashes of the deceased. Hollow. Admittedly though, there was a void in her heart and life that neither anything nor anyone could fill; not herself, her parents, friends, husband, or her son even. In fact, just knowing that even Henry couldn't fill that gaping hole in her somewhat was troublesome and just deflated her more as she spiraled into the unknown. She was respected, envied, filled with promises; full of life, and all that was scathed away from one person's death.

'No not a person. She was— _is_ more than that.' A Savior. An Evil Queen. A curse. Then it went to… A Sheriff. A Mayor. Post-curse. Then… A friend and mother to a friend and mother with normal life—as far as normal can get in this town. A ghost of a smile traced the blonde's lips as she thought of that; the memory in the mausoleum and her confession of wanting to be friends. It filled warmth through her whole body that was more than welcoming dashing through her veins like a game of tag making her feel like the person who she used to be. And gone was it as fast as you forget a dream with remnants fuzzing hither and thither but not complete, the longer dwelled on the more agitated you became. She sighed, a little too loud…

"Shut-up"

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused, and please _shut-up_ "

To say the blonde was shocked is an understatement. Never has her son talked to her in such a manner. It reminded her how the foster parents she had growing up in the system treated her. She felt little, useless, unwanted, pissed.

"I don't know what the hell is up with you, but I tell you this: don't you ever tell me or any relative of yours to shut-up!" emphasizing the 'p' sound in the end with a sharp pop and a hiss.

"No you listen! I will tell whoever to shut their damn—"

"Henry. Daniel. Mills. Say one more word from your defiled mouth or so help me God—"

 ** _Slam._**

Ok, maybe dumbfounded was the correct term. She barely registered that they were in front of the loft and that it was Henry that slammed the door to her cruiser. She watched as her son stalked off into the loft with a nice shove to the entrance as he made his way to MM's place. A deep, shaky sighed released from her chap lips.

'I'm going to have to pick up some chap stick later.'

Yup. That's all the blonde thought as she hassled her way out the car and to her mother's apartment. Truth be told, Emma was not only herself as of late, but her mentality at how she would handle things were way off too. Just the other day she received a call saying that Ms. Sonya's cat was stuck in a tree—for the "first" time. Emma knew the procedure: calm the lady, bring the ladder, coo the cat down, top off her little mission with a bear claw or some other processed junk she found appealing. But instead she: huffed and puffed at the lady for bothering her with petty shit, forgot the ladder so threw rocks at Mr. Stripes instead, yelled and made rabid dog—at least what she thought—noises to lure that troubled lazy fucker from the tree, and scrunched her face up at the thought of eating something shelf-life but instead ate a salad—go figure.

"Yea," she sighed. "Definitely not in my right mind."

Pep talks were genetically in her blood from the so called "Charmings". So it should've been easy to talk herself up some to prepare herself for dealing with Henry's wrath… or bullshit. Because this was just bullshit he was lunging her way; the clothing, the hair, the fucking attitude, hell, even the music he blared from his room non-stop. Something called Twenty-nun Pirates? Granted, they have a unique sound although she doesn't need to hear screaming coming out of nowhere when there was just whispering. Squaring her shoulders, locking her jaw, and putting on her best don't-fuck-with-me face the sheriff of StoryBrooke pushed her way through the apartment's doors ready for anything to hit her like the savior she was, 'No, is, _is_ " She got this.

"I hate you!"

 ** _Smash_** _._

Was this hell? Was she in hell? She must be because her whole body feels on fire like the sun puckered up and gave her a smooch. She feels heavier, like an anchor dropping to the depths of an ocean where no light seeps through to give her that whole different meaning than the darkness plummeting around her engulfing her lungs in the aphotic zone of the ocean. Already the tears were prickling the corner of her eyes, mocking her for her weakness and inability to keep those three words unshed from the mouth of her own babe. This-this was it. She failed. She failed as a mother, and a friend. Saying that it stung like hell was like giving herself a pat on the back, no, she felt nothing. Like her last emotion was sucked by a dementor and now she was nothing but a cold lifeless corpse. That was it though, she was nothing. Nothing. 'huh,' she thought, 'seems like an accurate caption.' The face of Emma Swan with the only thing under it saying everything she felt like for years and that deem right is her, nothing.

Coming back to the ever present living that was torture to even breathe around, she glanced at the ground seeing what were the shattered pieces of hate her boy so graciously decided to harpoon just inches away from her. To make herself feel tidbits of positivity, she told herself he actually wanted to miss the object hitting his mother. She scuffed the remnants of one Snow's vase with her boot and made way for the broom and dustpan. Normally, sadly, when Henry did get upset he would blare his music on high and be anonymous to the world for a few hours. But instead there was quiet seeping through the air; that gave the blonde an unexpected shiver trekking down her spine. Henry has been inconsistent lately and it was worrisome. Instead of hovering over that feeling, she shook it off and decided to let the little bastard—'Well he is… born out of wedlock so…'—be and gave in for a hot chocolate. Alcohol was going to have to wait for a few more hours before it was a feasible idea to feel buzzed. She was tired and was absolutely done with the day and everybody. Only peace, "psh!" and quiet can be remotely helpful at this time. Her gaze was focused on MM's bed and though it looked really comfy to flop on and subdue in, she then remembered walking in on her parents that first time… so the couch was perfect. Fluffing the pillows, grabbing the throw, and slipping off her combat boots Emma was ready to surrender to sleep immediately; no thinking, just closing eyes and…

 _XYLOPHONE. Xylophone. XYLOPHONE. Xylophone._

She needs a less fucking annoying ringtone or simply say fuck it to apple. The latter was looking nice…

 _Killian_

That name. It always made her heart skip a beat and sent warm tingles over her body. Her breath would hitch leaving nothing entering or leaving her airways. Pools of desire would wash over her leading to her core. The thought of his voice—his Irish accent—was a revelation in its own. Just the image of him—scruff beard, sea blue eyes, his handsome features, and the guy liner that made his eyes pop—sent her head over heels crazy for him. Emma Swan was in love.

She snorted at this and belched a heavy chuckle.

That name. It always laced her heart with pain and ache sending shivers of possibly disgust and loathing over her body. Her breath would hitch from having the thought that she would have to speak to him where she gasped and sputtered for air. Pools of desire of leaving him would wash over her and leave her stomach unsettling. The thought of his voice—intertwined with alcohol so pungent that it was gagging—was a revelation that he truly was a _pirate_. Just the image of him—blotchy beard, glazed eyes from too much rum, and his sickly handsome features that put her to shame for even enduring the thought, with that mascara he always insisted wearing—sent her head over heels crazy for not having the courage to leave him. Emma Swan was miserable.

So instead of doing her wifely duties, she ignored the call. She stared at the device in her hand for a few beats contemplating if she should shut if off or leave it on. Shutting it off would be nice; she could rest and not worry for a bit. But that has the repercussion of missing a call for her sheriff duties and her manic mother getting an update of her whereabouts while being insistent upon it. Leaving the device on with its clamorous ringing cutting the silence at unpredictable intervals seemed as menacing too. It was a quandary.

'Vibrate it is then.'

* * *

Instead of the vociferous lyrics he would pound out of his speakers to drown out his thoughts—and irk Emma—Henry decided to sit with silence filling the room. The teen felt bad for expressing his "disapproval" at Emma; it was quite petulant for him. Let alone deliberately throwing one of his grandmother's vases. He winced slightly at that, the thought that it was mere inches close to hitting Emma. In any other circumstance he would've concluded the heavy sigh he released was a bit dramatic, but he thought it was well deserved. He could hear his mother's voice concisely tsk-ing him for his insolence. He smiled at that.

Since her death in the Underworld, things haven't been the same. He hasn't been the same. Emma hell of wasn't the same. Not even the Charmings. Even some of the town wasn't the same, but that was the minority. The ones that were happy or feigning sorrow were the shitheads this town was made of. His grandpa—Gold—was one, he can rot in hell. There was no respect for that imp left for Henry. Although Belle actually seemed sadden by the news that the Queen was dead, so that uplifted Henry some. Others that didn't know the Queen as well but happened to be swept by the curse were part of the majority. Speaking of others that weren't acquainted with his mother and unstirred of her majesty's death, Hook is one. A scowl of disgust marred the teen's face with a scoff accompanying it. That mono one-hand fucker was a disgusting excuse of a pig that deserved to heave in the ashes of hell for that crap he pulled the night of his death. The man atoned for his sins and that's all that can be derived, cased closed.

Well…

He was saddened by Killian's death not because he didn't deserve it—the deception of Rumpelstiltskin was incorrigible—but he made Emma happy and he was a pretty cool person to know when he didn't have his memories of his Storybrooke life. The man had his flaws no doubt, but he did help with some stuff like the rescuing mission of Neverland. Though there was probably nothing that the pirate did without the agenda of quid pro quo. Everything was fine until those final moments in the Underworld. Her death, Emma's lame comeback that there was no way to rescue the brunette, the kingdom's wedding of Captain Killian Jones and Princess Emma Swan, and just everyday life was a barrier to get through without a full break down. Tears prickled the corners of the boy's eyes as he replayed his mother's death over and over again. He was spiraling; he couldn't afford that. With that last on his mind he let his thoughts wander to other aimless things that could either make him happy or cause pain to others…

* * *

Jade and jaded eyes perceived the dark room fluttering momentarily to adapt to its surroundings. They scanned the room as if a possible threat was lurking in some unknown shadows, and when it became evident there was nothing they closed from the world.

Emma let out a sigh of sheer exhaustion before moving her limbs—letting her addled sleep mind synapse the rest of her neurons. That power hour, or hours, nap didn't do the sheriff any good. Her body felt tense from being in an awkward position on her mother's sofa and her mind was still reeling of events from past, recent, and begrudgingly future. It was obvious she overslept since the apartment was a bit dark and eerily quiet. She hesitantly checked her phone for any important things she missed; luckily nothing happened except for some miscellaneous notifications on game updates. She groaned as she cat stretched her lean body in the apartment.

Time for her and Henry to get going.

Climbing up the stairs ever so slowly she dreaded whatever was coming her way with Henry and possibly her husband's interrogation on where she was, what she was doing, and whom she was with during her day; but the thoughts halted as she hinted a light illuminating in the hallway from her and Henry's bedroom. She rapped on the door a few times before making her way in.

"Hey, kid it's time to get going."

She stopped in her tracks when she saw the lulling picture before her. Her son curled slightly into a ball clutching a pillow with a serene look donning his face and his boy-girl hair curtaining his face a bit. There wasn't a time she could recall with seeing her son so at peace prior to his other mother's death. It squeezed her chest a bit when she realized she couldn't even really comfort him to the extent of a possible restful sleep. She was a crappy mother.

Reluctantly fixing out her reverie watching the boy sleep, Emma lightly spoke to him while nudging his shoulder for some seconds.

"Henry. Henry… sweetheart wake up"

Jade and jaded eyes perceived the exact gemstones hovering above him. It took all his will to not flinch from the close contact Emma was giving. It was like she was expecting him to be dead and that stirred him in the wrong direction. The baffled face from sleeping slicked to one of annoyance and Emma winced at that. She hurriedly withdrew herself close from him and regained her ground.

"Hey, kid it's time we go home. Still gotta get food ready and stuff."

"I don't wanna."

"Henry—"

"Can't we just pick something up from Grannies and eat at the mansion? I miss it there and would like to spend the night there."

"I don't know…. Killian wouldn't—"

"This doesn't concern Hook," Henry rebuked vehemently, "all I want is to spend some time in my _original_ home with my mom's things while spending time with my other mother. Is that too much to ask for?"

The blonde resigned at that. He just referred to her as his mother after how long? She wasn't going to burn the bridge at that. She could just text Killian that she won't be back until tomorrow and hopefully won't get a tirade of her absence and roll to fulfill her wifely duties. She almost gagged at the end of that thought. Yeah… a night at the mansion could be just the change her and Henry could use. Just the thought of being close to Regina's things elated her mood further.

"Yeah, why not? Pack a few things and we'll make our way to Grannies first, then to the mansion." A lopsided grin made home on her face at the end of her words.

"Ok, awesome! Thanks Ma!" And oh did her heart swell of those last two words. This was definitely worth it.

* * *

 **A/N: I want to give a helluva thanks to Gravity In the Air for helping me put my anxiety at bay over the reaction of this story and for helping me out, pretty much giving me actually, the summary of this story. No lie I can't stop reading the summary. l-/**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok...**

 **1\. Hello, Bonjour, Hola, Greetings, Ahoj, Hallo, Ciao, work work work work work... dur dur dur dur dur (for the people who only speak Rihanna at the moment, lol) I am Chink _in_ Armour, not Chicken Armour, so don't get that twisted, and I am an *AA.**

 **2\. Trigger Warning: This whole story is a trigger warning and that's all I'm giving and letting on. So you find something offensive, _ping!_ trigger warning. I want this to be a surprise for all that way suspense is coming out the blue. I may be "nice" and put some warning, random at that, so... hehe. **

**3\. This is SQ, but established, meaning work, helleuva lot, is needed. So just enjoy the ride... and buckle up. Your safety (or emotional state) isn't guaranteed... and I care about you guys, ok? So don't fall off the ride.**

 **[Disclaimer]: Why would I own the characters of the show? We all know SQ would've been happened, so don't think I'm tryna steal it. If I were to own the show too much work would be needed to set things right. I got better things to do, like... But no, I don't own the characters, that's all the writers and company, so bleh!**

 ***Got you didn't I? AA is Astounding Author, so if you're an author as well, then be this with me. If not, but a reader, then you're an **ER, Enthusiastic Reader, so thank you very much ;D**

 ****I just realized that sounded like I gave someone a sticker saying "Enthusiastic Reader!" or "You're Grape!" I'll work on it**

* * *

" _Ok, awesome! Thanks Ma!" And oh did her heart swell of those last two words. This was definitely worth it._

* * *

Maybe it wasn't worth it. First she was content as her and Henry made way to the diner for their orders. Then her mood deflated a bit as she was receiving preposterous and assertive texts from her husband after her original text stating that her and Henry would spend the night at the mansion since Henry thought it was a good idea. That just fused the pirate even more as he went on that "the lad doesn't know what's good for him" or "he should be grateful he doesn't live under the Queen's misery anymore." This then lead to a heated over the phone conversation out on the deceased Mayor's porch as Henry was inside feeling his spirits uplift.

Now…

Now her mood was shitastic.

She dropped her head and let it thud against the pillar of the mansion. Not feeling the satisfaction enough she thudded again, and again, and again. She couldn't stop nor didn't want to. This was well deserved and long overdue for a little self-inflicted harm for her late stupidity of how she handled things. She sucked as a sheriff, she sucked as a mother, and she sucked at being a wife. Saying she sucked at being a friend would be nice too, that is if she had any. At least then she knew she would have someone to talk to about the suckiness of her life. She was so out of it she failed to notice her son leaning against the door way with arms crossed against him just watching his mother thud her head repeatedly like sheep. Her breath caught from the way he was positioned, ' _Just like Regina_ '.

"I would ask why are you causing harm on yourself but I overheard you talking to the pirate for a bit so I could care less what's said about that. Though, I need you alive and well till I can fend for myself and I sure as hell don't want to be in his custody, so could you stop?"

The blonde flinched at that a bit. "Thank you for the care of my wellbeing son."

"Not a problem Emma." Her lips pursed at the first name bases.

"Just so you know, if I was harmed or dead, you'd be in your grandparents' custody, not Killian's."

"And what?" he scoffed. "You think they wouldn't try to mend his and I's relationship? I can already hear Snow talking about it 'You need a male figure Henry. David can't always be around and Killian is your stepfather so he's entitled to bond with his son.' Uh, yeah no. You're the barrier Emma, so you need to stay put and not die or y'know... do something stupid."

"Oh, you mean Swan fashion?"

"You had that before Mom's death. Now it's just stupidity you'd be expressing."

"You know, I can take shit talk like that from your mother, but you are the child so you should definitely watch what you're saying boy."

"I'm not trying to insult you Emma," _not as much_ , "but I just need you to still be here. And although I am aware that our relationship has strained much, I don't need to lose my other parent. I'm barely functioning with one gone." He said the last part in a tiny voice like the child he was that Emma couldn't help but feel guilt for that. He was right, he needed her ' _though it doesn't seem like it_ ' and she needed him too.

"Come now Swan" he smirked. "The night is still young, so let's live as much as we can; of course StoryBrooke standards so there aren't noise complaints."

"That's the spirit young Mills" she smiled along with him.

So that's what they did. They ate their food in the living room, still giving respect to the furniture and preventing spills, and played video games and talked some. Neither had felt like this for so long that it hurt to think about; especially since there was one person missing all of this for everything to feel normal. Henry was setting the next game up while Emma decided to head up to her room to grab something more comfortable to lounge in. She was making her way back downstairs when she passed a certain brunette's door.

That door has not been opened for a while. Henry use to go in there but it caused too much trouble with her smell still dancing in the air and the way she left things the day they journeyed to the Underworld. It's as if he wanted to preserve the memory of her, so there was no room for argument in that. Not that she was ever going to. Emma grabbed the knob and slowly turned it like danger was waiting for her to enter. Air is supposed to be stale and dusty when you enter in a room not occupied for such amounts of time. You are supposed to cough and slice the air repeatedly with your hand to clear the pieces floating in the air to prevent consuming in. But that wasn't the case with Regina Mills bedroom. It is never what it is supposed to be when it comes to her.

Instead of those said things you're supposed to feel, Emma was directly smacked with the scent of her majesty and the consequences were damned. Tears already pooled in her eyes while she breathed in the smell of apples, cinnamon, and something citrusy and took in her surroundings of the brunette's room. The queen or king sized bed, the vanity with things like cosmetics dispersed, and two doors—a closet and bathroom—showcasing their glory were all pressuring. She should get out while she can. But like Emma Swan fashion, _'or was it?'_ she threw caution to the wind and made way into the room.

She took it all in as if she was at a museum hearing the guide speak of the intricate details of what history was stored in this room. Her hand tentatively swept the duvet of the bed and was met with a sigh at the feel of satin, which is what she thought. She leant down to a pillow and smelled it only to bury her face in it from the smell of Her. She checked the vanity momentarily while seated feeling giddy that this was where the mayor of StoryBrooke would sit every morning prepping herself for the destruction of others and motherly duties of Henry.

Next was the bathroom at which the sight slapped a gawk on the blonde's face with the grandeur it exposed. One of those beautiful standalone, claw-footed tubs sat center stage with a glass shower case big enough for a bench, which was there _'hot damn'_ , with walls tiled beautifully with those fancy gadget showerheads you can play with stood at to the side. The glass was so crystal clear that it startled her to see her own reflection reflecting the truth of her state. She walked slowly towards, her reflection becoming more refined by the step, and when she was in front of it, she placed both hands on the glass. Broken eyes stared directly back to her in the lambent glass. It was so much like a mirror, or rather another self of her, telling her what she has become that she hurriedly shunned her eyes away to avoid the mess of what she is. On the other side was a little room that at first the blonde thought was a toiletries closet but actually was a tiny secluded room for the toilet which she has yet to perceive. _'Damn, that's royalty right there, your own personal room to do your business.'_ Last and not least, not at all, was the imposing sink that was a bit too large for Emma's taste, _'but just right for a Queen'_ that donned everything of perfection. A glossy marbled white countertop coupling with black imperceptible cabinets beneath that showcased the sharp clarity mirror with wisps of detailed designs encompassing the borders. The whole room in its entirety screamed Regina Mills.

The last thing to inspect was the no doubt walk-in closet the Queen would have. If Emma thought the sight of the room was enough to cause tears and some feelings to swarm her, it was nothing compare to the scenery of everyday attire the Mayor of StoryBrooke would wear basking in the glory of her power suits and revealing dresses. Emma literally almost fainted on the spot, but instead swayed and clutched the wall from dear life taking it all in as she choked on bubbling sobs wanting to escape. It was too much yet it wasn't enough. She went through each and every piece of clothing that was hanged and—creepily like a stalker—sniffed all the clothes. In the back of her mind, which resided the real Emma Swan, was a telling that this was borderline creepy and invasive as hell, but she didn't care. No, far from it actually. What only mattered was filling the scent of her majesty within her as much as possible—without becoming emotional, _'Too late'_ or turned on, _'dammit!'_

"Emma! Yo, what's taking so long? You comin' or not?" her son all but yelled from the bottom of the steps.

This caused to blonde to jump and scamper away clumsily almost knocking a mirror off a wall. "Sorry! I'll be down, just... having trouble finding my sweats!"

"Alright."

Heart thudding like a crazed convict locked away, the blonde had to get out while she can. But before she did she couldn't bear the thought to part from all of Regina's things. So like her questionable mental state advised she grabbed a favorite scarf used to be worn daily by Regina and parted ways with the room. Then she quickly headed to her room she resided in and stuffed the scarf in a separate bag, preserving the smell of the brunette, and shoved it down her duffel haphazardly throwing other things to obscure the image of it in case someone, _'though no one would'_ , went through it. She just was getting out of the room when she smelt herself and bugged her eyes out with the conclusion that she smelt like the deceased brunette's room. This could cause controversy with Henry, so she changed clumsily out her clothes—threw those in a separate bag to preserve that smell too—and threw on something different of her usual scent.

She then descended from the stairs.

"Hey kid, ready to get creamed in Asphalt?"

"I know you are, don't be a sore loser now. Hey weren't you looking for sweats?"

"Yeah, must've forgotten to bring them, so settled with shorts. Scoot."

* * *

Emma Swan was never much for sleep, or relaxation either, since the person who plagues her thoughts day and night on continuity died years ago, Regina. After her burial and things went the same humdrum way of StoryBrooke life, Emma felt a piece of her had died. She had no one to backtalk, be cocky, or banter to. There was no drinking buddy to clink glasses late in the night with from escaping her parents' smothering, nor was there someone to speak with that understood the blonde. There was no more sharing of memories of her son with the thoughts given to her from Boston or the actual real events that happened during her absence of her son's life. There was no one to just be Emma Swan with and expect nothing more from her. Life was bleak without Regina Mills.

But some part of her felt more than relaxed and restful than she had been in so long. One would say the sight of the sheriff sniffing her shirt repeatedly as self-conscious of her hygiene, or some other weird shit. Another could say that's she's admiring the way she smelled. Or someone could say that she is more than likely wiping continuous boogers and snot that drains away from her nose. The middle one is more than correct. The sheriff definitely loved the way she smelt and couldn't get enough of it. That is… if it wasn't her scent. Yes, Emma Swan was sniffing the hell out of the shirt she wore in Regina's room the night prior and was feeling euphoric. Just sitting at her desk writing some less than important report with her other hand gripping the neck of her t-shirt, head crouched low taking in the scent like her life depends on it. Indeed it was a sight. The essence of the brunette was doing undeniable things to the blonde's nose making her feel light-headed and heart fluttering like a bird's wings. It was lulling her. And damn was she if she was ever to part from this god forbidden scent. Just thinking of that made her bundle the shirt more and shove it closer to her. She wouldn't be able to do this privately in her own home given that she sleeps with her husband and is always out and about doing sheriff work. So this was what she could compromise with.

That is what she thought.

"Hey Em"

"David!" The blonde quickly zipped her jacket all the way up and fumbled with her keyboard feigning work as she typed random letters harshly.

"Careful there Emma. I don't think the mayor would replace that if I were you."

"Thing is you ain't. If you were you would've been broken this piece of shit given that the mayor is your mother."

"And you haven't yet, why?"

"Nobody got time for that." Shit was true. Mary-Margaret is annoying as fuck when it comes to mayoral duties.

"Ah, I see. Couldn't agree more." Her father smiled.

"So uh, are you here picking something up or….?"

"Uh, no. Just going to get some paperwork done. Been lettin' it stack up lately and thought that it could end with me sleeping on the couch."

"Yeah, MM takes no bs when come to her job."

"Indeed"

"Well, um, I'm going to patrol out for a bit. See if there's danger ahead in the alleys of this town."

"Uh huh. Or just hope to find something to play vigilante?"

"I wouldn't be hoping to play vigilante if this town had more interesting shit going on besides the change of menu for Grannie's Diner." She said as she flipped her hair back from the collar of her jacket.

"Yeah" he smiled wistfully leaning on his desk crossing his arms having the look of reminisce on his face. "Those were the days huh?"

"Right, until one of our own fell."

There was no coming back after saying that the blonde thought. But she couldn't care less. There was an itch starting at her that needed relief and David sure as hell wasn't going to prevent that.

"Erm," he cleared his throat abruptly, "just so you know, Ruby is also out on patrol now. So you could peruse around or uh, get some sleep." _There, that has to be subtle enough._

"Dad…"

"Emma, sweetheart you look worse for wear. I know this because your mother has been tossing and turning too. Honey, I know rather how difficult it is given that it's that time again but you got to take better care of yourself. Even Killian is worried for you."

She knew he was right, but screw him, "I know—"

"No, you don't Emma." He replied sternly. "Have you seen yourself lately? You can't walk around moping like this, even for Henry's sake! Some of the residents are becoming worried that their sheriff isn't in her right mind. Emma, you yelled out in the street the other day why that stop sign on Main shouldn't be there and," he air quoted, " _'shoved up the ass whose idea it was to put that there.'_ Your mother was devastated you'd want to do that to her."

The sheriff had to pretend to cough in her throat from the tickle in the back of it forming. Ah, yes. She has been ranting questionable things off her mother thought was good for the town.

"It is not moping David! I should've done something instead of what I did in… in…" she blew out a harsh gust of air. "I am grieving the loss of a friend and Henry's other mother!" _We could've been so much more._ "And tell Snow to stop putting those damn signs down like lollipops. Her candy-licking ass should know better than to put stop signs in a _driveway_!"

And with that Emma made her way out the station and walked aimlessly to whatever destination her heart desired. She had no means to drive the cruiser around or catch on sleep in her house where more than likely her husband was. She doesn't even know what he does given that he doesn't have a job. All that's been said was that, "a pirate has his ways, luv. Just let me see to it." This just resulted into more grumbling and curses about herself, her mother, father, curses of her son for bullshit he was throwing at her like earlier, and other nonsense. Her thoughts were just making way how stupid it were that there wasn't no cool movies out when she halted at her new destination.

108 Mifflin.

Well she did think what her heart desired and it seemed that this was it. She should just walk away and head somewhere else but it was like her body was on autopilot. She used whatever past burglars use to break into places with and made way in the previous Mayor's house. The only person who had keys to the place was her son. He didn't say that she was allowed to enter his mother's home. _'But he didn't say that I was **not** allowed to enter her home.'_ So… she walked up the stairs and perspired slightly that she was doing this again. This time she was going to do something no man has done before. She entered the brunette's room again for the second time less within 24 hours and simply stood there in the middle of the room debating if or if not this was a good idea to start what she so desperately wanted to begin with. She had to pro/con herself.

 _Pro: I might feel more rested. Con: This is wrong. Pro: I can be the proper sheriff this town needs. Con: This is so wrong. Pro: Fewer cats would be pelted with inanimate objects by me. Con: Why the hell are you still here?! Pro: Let's face it, you haven't been yourself lately and can throw all that other shit out the window. Con: No, no. Pro has a point._

Peeling off her skintight jeans and throwing her jacket aside Emma lowered into the Queen's bed and carefully configured her in the middle of it. The duvet was snugged against her torso feeling the satin material feather her bare legs and bring the coolness that belong to it take her. She leant her head deeper into the pillows and moaned at the feeling, but caught herself at that. She was already crossing lines; no need for weird sounds either. She also grabbed a pillow to her right and whiffed in the scent that subsided all this time in it. The only conclusion to come was that it smelled like Her and that was more than enough for the sheriff. She felt content like she never knew in ages and it was startling. Yet fuck it. No level of comfortableness had shown its way in the wasted time of her life, and she more than deserved it. The last thing on her mind as she clutched the pillow of her majesty's close to her chest was those soft brown eyes that she could tell her secrets to and forever feel at peace with.

* * *

 **|-/**


	3. Chapter 3

He hated her. He fucking hated her so much that it wasn't funny to the T. She deserves to feel miserable. She deserves to witness the pain he had to, no _has_ , to go through every day. To be looked onto as a freak. To be pitied. To be sympathized for. She would never know what it felt like. To hide behind a mask and not know who you are anymore. To take on this whole new persona and go along with it. Because being his actual self was not a choice. Being… being… _this_ was the only breathing room he had and now that was even stripped from him. He was teared from something to nothing now and he fucking hated it. He hated the pain. He hated the way things were. He hated it all. It was all too much. He was done. Fuck it. If people were going to keep treating him like this than what was it worth to live this hell of a life anymore? Nobody cared for him. Nobody really expressed the love they had for him for so long that it… it… it was… **_Argh! Argh! Argh!_** Fuck! He hates it **ALL!** Great, now his god damn hand was spilling the blood he came to hate. Hero blood; he scoffed. Coward blood; he gripped the sink. Truest believer blood; he smashed his other fist in the dingy bathroom mirror. He fucking hated himself so much his heart was drowning in the whirlwind of loathing he has been doing as of late. Why… why couldn't no one feel or understand his pain?

* * *

 **Earlier that day…**

"Ok, kid, time to chat." Emma took a seat beside her son on the kitchen island in her home she built when she was the Dark One.

The long-haired teen was mindlessly eating his PB&J with his hair curtaining his face, slumped over lost in thought. Some could say that it looked like his adoptive mother's with the length almost reaching his shoulders but not touching just yet. It didn't bother him that others say this; he actually prided himself a bit for it. Even if he wasn't her child biologically he could pat himself for still keeping the image of her somewhat with him. So if that meant he had to walk with hair that could be pulled in a ponytail then all was fine.

"Huh?" He was still bitter towards Emma, but not as much anymore after hanging at the mansion. Maybe this could be a way to a fresh start.

"It's about yesterday; when I picked you up from school. What happened? Cause from what I heard, you've been causing some trouble for others."

"It's not what it seems."

"Really? Care to explain?" She crossed her arms in a defensive manner trying to give off the look of intimidation. He can hate, dislike, or whatever all he wanted. But Emma Swan was not going to be raising a troublemaker like she was herself years back.

His face flickered to something of annoyance. How many times has he tried to tell her his side of things only to be ignored? She would never understand how ruthless and unapologetic kids were today.

"I was minding my business in science class only to get hit by a piece of paper."

"And?" She persisted.

"And it had something foul about my mother written on it. I tried to ignore it only to have two more thrown at me. When I finally stood to go confront whoever was throwing in the direction they were coming at… a whole bunch of other kids ganged up and start throwing crumpled pieces of slanderous things about her at me."

To say the blonde was pissed was an understatement. "Where was the teacher?"

"Late." He shifted in the barstool to face her, but still averting eye contact feeling like rejection or something was going to blow in his face like usual. "Then someone said even though the evil bitch is dead there still walks the dark prince waiting to slice throats at his mercy. So to give them what they wanted I grabbed the person's throat and started choking the shit out of him. They wanted a show and a show they got."

This sounded ugly the blonde thought. "And that was what the teacher walked in on? You choking that boy?"

"Yeah."

 _This is weird_ , she thought, _why didn't the principal just say that Henry harmed another kid? Why the words play?_

She dismissed the thought for a moment only to broach the topic of Henry's violence, especially if it leads to physically harming others. "Henry," she used _that_ voice.

And he knew all too well what voice she was using. This wasn't going to go the way he expected. "Emma," he warned, "they said gross things about her. I tried to ignore it like the other times, but what was I supposed to do?! Let them say stuff like that about her and then me?"

"Everything sounded fine until they attacked you. Henry, you can't let your ego get in the way."

"That's not what I'm even saying!" he dangerously gripped the island.

"No, that is exactly what you are implying! You didn't like the stuff they were saying about her so you remained to shut up. But when they start going off about you being like her you erupt. Which is it? You either didn't like what they were getting at with her or you! Hm? Tell me!"

The teen was becoming flummoxed; this was _not_ how it was supposed to go. How could he be in the wrong when a whole classroom ganged up on him? How… how… "I DON'T KNOW!" He bellowed.

He violently stood up and harshly let his hands rake his hair like his blonde mother does.

"You're grounded."

"What?!" Oh, things have gone topsy turvy now.

"You heard me! No tv, no games of any kind, and no socialization. You are to stay in your room until I decide when to repeal the punishment."

"This… this… this ISN'T FUCKING FAIR!" He kicked the stool and it all but skitters across the floor causing a loud racket.

The devil knows how to pop up at the wrong times. Whether that is at your worst or your best matters not. He's just something no one ever wants to deal with. And he comes in many forms.

"Henry, lad… what's with the commotion?" The pirate gestured to the dismantle stool with his hook.

"Stay out of it!"

"No, no I will not. I am your stepfather so it is my duty to know what's with your affairs that upset you."

"Hook—," Emma tried to reason.

"You did this!" Henry pointed out jabbing his finger on the pirate's chest. "You caused Emma to turn against me whispering like the snake you are how to handle me!" He seethed to the pirate's face with his teeth bare, eyes feral. The image reminded the pirate of a certain brunette who loved to throw accusations.

"Lad, calm down some. If you are speaking about what happened at school earlier then yes, I did give your mother some advice." He reeked of his usual scent of leather and rum; it was gagging.

To think that his own mother would listen to this monotonous fuck-head was needles acupuncturing Henry's heart. It felt like the needles were at place and someone pushed each and every one painfully—slowly—that he clutched his chest for a second.

This… this… wasn't how it was supposed to go. He thought, finally, _finally_ Emma would side with him. Why would she do this? He was her son, her Henry. But it all didn't matter anymore when she married Killian Jones. He was disposable, that's what he felt like. Useless… unwanted… broken. The hurt, all of it was too much for the teen to bear. Tears were prickling his eyes while his throat was burning like an inferno. A scream wasn't enough to release the pent up loathing, hurting, and raw emotions the teen had in him. He just wanted to claw his skin off and emerge anew. He was trapped in the ashes from reviving as a phoenix. He wanted Regina, his actual mother. Not this hollow of a shell person that he once so happily claimed to be his real mother. Not this person that he once looked up past the stars and moon towards. Not her, no.

The anger he was feeling was still lingering in him but what was becoming was the hurt. That fire—the ire—that danced in his jade eyes dissipated and was now of glass and hurt. Turmoil was trickling down to anguish that was blooming favorably in him now. This anguish was displaying itself openly, because Emma was all too familiar with the look and feeling. He didn't register that he stood there before both people. He didn't register that his heaving chest died down to nothing. He didn't register that his cheeks were stained by their own waterfall with his mouth agape frozen in place. He couldn't register anything. He was paralyzed. His throat felt like sandpaper then and there. His words barely came out in a croak that could rival an old aching floorboard.

"How… how could you?" his head was turned away from hers and lowered in front of Killian's.

The blonde did not miss the pain erupting from his voice. Pain she was all too familiar with. This just sent a sharp pin prickling to her chest. What has she done? "Henry, I'm-I'm…" she was fumbling with her words now. She just broke something between them. She fucked something up that was unfixable. "Henry, please" she motioned for him to look at her, "look at me sweetheart. Whatever I just did, I swear to you I had no intention. Henry, please… look at me." Her sniffle was going unsaid.

 _I'm sinking. I'm spiraling. I can't break now. I can't—,_ he took a shuddering breath that only shook him more, _No. I need… I need to escape. I need to—_

"I need a walk."

From those words that fell from his lips Henry grabbed his jacket and hurriedly—frantically—escaped the moment of his downfall.

* * *

"How's the boy?" The dark skinned man lazily wiped his fore finger across his ally's—or sheep's—desk only then to wipe the little dust from it.

"He's, uh… he's not doing well sir. He seems to have retreat into himself even more." The man fidgeted before his superior looking every bit nervous as he was. Good.

"Hm." He let his dark—almost onyx—eyes rake over the man's appearance and could feel the trepidation oozing from this pawn. It felt heavenly, ecstasy itself—that is aside from power. He smirked at the thought.

"You do understand why I summoned your presence… Lawrence?" The mysterious man drawled the inferior's name with venom just to get a kick seeing him squirm in his seat.

"Frankly sir, I've not come up with a reason yet."

"Of course not; your dull mind lacks the base of reasoning even fungi could induce." He narrowed his eyes at the puny man in front of him. "I want to know that you've heeded to the instructions I gave to give to the principal of StoryBrooke High."

"Yes sir, I did exactly as you say." Replied the stout man sheepishly bowing his head to avoid his ally's—or superior's—gaze.

"Good. And how did that insipid woman take the proposition presented to her?"

"She uh… she hastily accepted it… sir."

"Good," a raspy dark chuckle released from his throat. This was going to be easy, he thought as he fiddled with his fountain pen. It was a peculiar pen unlike the renowned intricately designed array. Its tip was one of which requires ink to bleed from, as it would drip fervently on the finest paper was a sheet of gold. The body was submerged of the colors a valiant would consider fearsome ranging from being black to eyes set afar but up close it was clouds of darkness clashing in a war of rage. Hums could be heard emitting it like the faintest ticking of a wristwatch under close scrutiny. The pen seemed alive. Then there were the two strands of gold lining as thin as thread; however as dense as lead, coiling itself around it like a serpent with its conniving head peaking at the tip of the finial. It was a magnificent pen, indeed.

"Will that be all, sir?"

The balding man was pleading to escape his superior's presence. The man was a walking fright to others. If Lawrence learned anything from his previous master, it was not to dabble in the dark arts once more. But alas, his ineptitude to not fall pawn to such foolery—because foolery only gets you a death wish—was grasping straws.

The magician's upper lip snarled from disgust of the fervent sweating this pig was doing across from him. He winced at the thought there might be sweat pooled on the leather of the chair. "Leave, and keep an eye on the boy."

That was enough said for the stout man to flee gratefully.

* * *

 ** _Slam_**

The sound of the door violently shutting from the departure of her son urged the blonde woman to be pulled from her reverie of contemplation of the events that went down. A scowl would etch her face from the disapproval sound the door left ringing through the house from her son's careless actions. But she was far from scolding him for it. If she was in his position, she probably would've done worst. This by far was maybe her worst altercation with Henry yet. Other times it was a few snide remarks from both parties and then separation for a few hours. She trying to mother him only to get rebutted with the pissed mood of a teenager with probably swallow amounts of loathing he had for her. To be candor though, not even swallowing amounts of loathing left Emma feeling the tidbits of fine. If Henry was on the spectrum of hate toward her then she definitely fucked up. No child should hate her nor feel like betrayal was hurled their way from their parent, yet she is accountable for both acts. Damn.

 _I should go for him; the least thing he needs to feel is alone in all this. I could apologize. I could try to repair things between us, yeah. That sounds good._ Moving her lead heavy legs was a challenge for Emma but she managed. She was just making a reach for her signature leather jacket when she caught a glimmer of silver from her peripheral. She should probably tell him where she's going.

"Hook, I'm making a run for Henry." She was just reaching for her keys near the front door when—

"No, Swan, you shouldn't."

"Huh?" she should've left already. "And why's that?" When did she give a hell about his opinion?

"The lad's just going through a tough time. He needs a quiet mind to get his affairs straight."

That… that sounded pretty right, but…

"No, no he doesn't. What he needs is someone to tell him that everything is going to be alright. Even if it's the last person that he wants to deal with." She was fixing the collar of her jacket getting ready for her leave.

"I'm pretty sure the last person he would consider greeting is I, luv. Listen," he stalked slowly toward her, "a hushed mind is more than welcoming for sailors his age. I remember my time at his age being mad at the realms for things only young lads like him make such short notice of." He slowly reached for her arms in a comforting gesture, "just give him time…" his lips ghosted over hers, "and if he's not pleased any further with his reasoning, we'll go to him." The last was said in a whispering tone to lure her and damn if it wasn't succeeding.

Killian always did this; said things to deter her way of thinking then and there acting like devil/angel duo on her shoulders. Desire and temptation whispering seductively on one side and the other the voice of reasoning, the side you always consider. But that side was gone, her angel advocate was the brunette mother of her spiteful son and she was gone. Instead Emma was left with this other brunette in front of her—nipping her neck—that was a reformed villain, like Regina; that wanted to do right by her, like Regina wanted to do for Henry and unknowingly her; that accepted Emma for Emma, like Regina did only wholeheartedly; that if she squinted at could somewhat look like Regina, not quite with height difference and the sparks of leather and alcohol dual with the fireworks of apples and cinnamon and something citrusy, but she could make amends with. Thinking of the deceased brunette's plush redden lips against Emma's neck was, _oh-_ She leaned into the touch grasping Regina's silky locks, weaving through her slender fingers, clutching on to them for dear life burying her face in it. Her nose eluding the present scent with one of her craving she yearned for. The brunette was teasingly sucking at her pulse point with her chest heaving against Emma's suffocating one; air becoming short for the both. This was happening, how long she dreamt and fantasized of this was…

God. God. God. What the _hell_ was she thinking? She just associated the whole time she was having intercourse with Hook as him being Regina. What the fuck was with her state of mind? This should've never had happened. She should've just run straight for Henry and apologize to him… but Killian's reasoning was sound. No! Her son felt vulnerable and probably felt, or feels, like he has nobody to back his side. Not both sets of grandparents, not her, and not Killian. He has no other relatives—except Zelena but she's in Oz with Robin raising that child.

Emma remembers the way Zelena took her sister's death, it was… startling. The Wicked Witch of the West was actually saddened by the news; her crystal sky blue eyes were so glassy that it seemed they would visibly crack like brute force onto a wall. The blonde winced at the part that she remembered of next. She also recalled Zelena speaking about wanting to have a little privacy with her nephew to say some things, but Emma only rescinded that plea immediately. She thought at the time Zelena just wanted to harm Henry—now that Regina was gone. Although from the churning of her stomach, for a number of factors, she felt there was more than just harming her son that Zelena wanted, something less violent and more sentimental.

"Ahhh," the sheriff groaned. She was messing up every which way known to man.

What halted her self-deprecation was the shuddering her body convulsed from feeling hot, moist breath on the shell of her ear as an hairy arm tugged possessively at her waist against their groin. Her rear making contact with that prideful part of him had her nothing but squirming out his grip for the self-preservation of Emma. Be nude with a dude or get dress in a mess?

"Killian…" she started slowly thinking up her excuse.

"…"

She scoffed. Now she feels like a cheap harlot for bedding with a man only for him to fall asleep in the end—in the mid of day. Though, he is her husband… she shook her head. After sex you either cuddle, partake in the rest of your day, or sleep only if it's late in the night to what Emma thought. A and C weren't options she wanted to conclude with, but dammit! She was his wife, and now she felt like she done her "wifely" duties only to sate the man of his horniness. Wait…. Why should she care? She doesn't deserve better, she deserves this. Her life was a clusterfuck with being a shitty mother, a detached wife, an introverted daughter and sister, and probably an unrequited love to the woman who clouded her thoughts. Tears were welling in her tired eyes now. She should sleep, but not here. Nowhere near others right now is best. Maybe she should…. No! That's invasive… kind of? No, it's wrong.

Paperwork sounded calming. _I could catch up on some budget reports and let that take my mind away. Contacting Henry would be best for later._ She glanced over at the pirate, _I should definitely shower._ She whiffed herself with the result of her nose scrunching from his usual pirate scent lingering on her skin. That wouldn't do.

After her harshen scrub of her body, Emma rifled through the clothes she had in her shared closet. Next thing she knows she trips over her duffel from the night prior and instantly grumbles the complaint of her injured—it isn't—shin. Legs stop abruptly from the owner's mind processing the contents in the bag. She opens the bag a tad too eagerly with a glint, maybe desperate, in her eyes scrounging for the object of her desire. Like a crazed addict getting their grubby hands on their ruination, Emma's hungry fingers grip the scarf of her already downfall. The inhalation of the forbidden scent she huffed was much relief washing over her nerves like a summer's rain. This-this is what she needs. This scarf will keep her rooted and not float away from the madness of her life that's came to be. This circus that she is trapped at being displayed for the public eye to witness her stupidity and pay handsomely for their own amusement is what her life has become. This scarf feels like the curtain being drawn and letting her wallow in the dark depths her cage has to offer. Because in the dark… in the dark she is relieved—her relief from titles, responsibilities, association with others, expectations, all of it is shunned from her eyes like a veil only offering that black that will unsurfaced till her next showing. Until the world will flail their green interest in the air hollering for the sight of the damn, her, only then for their children to taunt and the adults to sneer disgustingly at will she appreciate this olive branch offered to her even more. Ok, taken, but all the same.

Royalty was befitting for the Queen whether she was born into it or not didn't matter the least. She was meant to be perceived with an awestruck audience with gaping mouths for her presence alone. And damn if that feeling didn't transcend into her taste of clothing. Gingerly rubbing the scarf over her face Emma couldn't help but more than take account the soothing fabric of the material that lulled her even deeper than could be fathomed. Just imagine if she had the real deal. As she burrowed her nose in the folds of the scarf she tampered with her mind wondering what life would've been like if she confessed her love for the powerful Mayor. There probably would've been a heated argument, she couldn't help but shrug and De Niro face at that. Hypes like she's with Robin Hood or herself is with Hook would have surfaced let alone prefaced. Then there would have been the whole 'what about Henry?' charade, when really he wouldn't care less—he was a safe card regardless. Inner turmoil could be a big play at that given both their histories and the cynics the town had to offer of their relationship. Add familial matters at that too and there's a concoction. But the question is would they have made it through? Would their love have prevailed? Emma can't help but fathom how many times this has always come up in her head. It was annoying as hell. Not that she didn't dwell feelings for Regina, just did Regina dwell some for her? Romantically that is, not some friendship bullshit. Her lips raspberry at that; she should not have these thoughts scampering her around in her head right now.

She had to get going to the station to isolate her thoughts from the troubling and more onto the blank and boredom of paperwork. But just like the night before she couldn't part without something of Regina' to anchor her. She gazed at the godsend in her hands momentarily. Taking this in would cause havoc with about anyone that keeps up with the former Mayor's wardrobe. Henry, for one, Ruby maybe, Granny too, although more of a raised eyebrow and a grunt (probably sympathetic at that) and who knows who else would identify the Mayor's wardrobe. She could maybe hide it under her shirt and jacket, nobody would notice right? _Ok, what shirt then? Something baggy or… Oh, thank God!_ The shirt she hastily parted with yesterday popped in her mind and so her basically, clumsily, wrangled into the shirt and all but sniffed the hell out of that too. Yes, Regina Mills was her addiction.

* * *

 **Suspense, Drama, Angst, Tragedy, Romance... I'm doing it all. An epic? Idk *shrugs* For real, please review, I would love to hear, or read, your thoughts and ideas about the story so far and what's next for it. Am I doing good, bad, am I keeping you captivated? I know there aren't a lot of suspense/drama stories where I'm heading with (what up foreshadowing reference), so please, input is gr8. We can't leave that lovely review lonely now, can we? Also thank you all who are reading this, an immense thank you to all from all over really. |-/**

 ***I was indifferent towards OQ and Robin, but I will miss the happiness he gave to Regina, regardless of needing a man, she was very happy with him. Loads of fuckitude they did bringing Hook back to Emma but having Robin _literally_ cease to exist; no way for a loophole in that. The man should at least deserve to go to heaven or Elysium. Damn.  
R** **.I.P. Robin Hood of Locksley, I and hopefully others will at least miss your presence. *puts rosed arrow on grave* Till next week you awesome people. Oh, remember... review/follow? Please? Thanks y'all. I will shut up now.**


	4. Chapter 4

**How 'bout that season finale, huh? Take it as you want but, *sing song voice* I got some ideas. No, for real though... next season better not be some lolly-gagging shit. Less monologues and more grit and blood and psychotic crap. This is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde we're talking about, the show better not twinkle the hell out of this or else... What? Am I thinking of starting a new story? Err... I mean... there's already images flitting though my mind... Huh? Is it even written down or is this some bs? Well, like idk if a whole doc filled with a summarization goes for show, so... SQ? Pft, like you even have to ask. What was that now? Is this going to be some twisted, dark, my eyes sting from this emotional trauma story? Whoa, hold on there! I don't mean to toot my own horn, "toot, toot", but... just remember I'm not your... average... writer... *avoids eye contact***

* * *

The saltiness, more evident, intertwined with the smell of sea sat in the air as Henry trudged against the concrete then turning into the docks. There was no clue how long he's been wandering lost in thoughts, but it wasn't worrisome either. A wind came rippling through slicing his dried, tear-stained cheeks as he withdrew into his jacket more. All he seemed to know was that he needed to distance himself as far from StoryBrooke would offer. That came to go about in the woodland or by the sea. The latter won from the memories that would flit in Henry's mind thinking of his earlier youth while he happily played on his castle with his adoptive mother, or when he and his father would sword play for the short time he became acquainted with him. Those were good memories the teen wistfully thought.

He deeply missed those earlier days. Yet, he felt troubled by them from the analysis of his behavior then. Well, the first year or two post-curse. He had his father and his "real" mother and the rest of the self-righteous characters, but he didn't have his mother. No, he was too caught up in her "evilness" and plans to destroy his family with apple tarts and projections. His nose scrunched at the thought that he was that naïve. More than once he wondered what made Regina not want to give up on him. Besides, he did treat her like dirt, close to an untouchable really. Rude remarks were fling squarely in her face by him, and the way he acted aloof towards her was biting as well. At times like these, reflecting on his past behavior, he would loathe himself; however not that he didn't do it at all, just more than necessary. But all that would screech to a halt when he remembers why she never gave up on him.

 _'_ _I will always love you, Henry. No matter how many times you pu-"_

What was that?

He whipped his head back and forth frantically. The chattering of metal ringing came soundly to his left. All movement and train of thought stopped as his eyes roamed searchingly for the threat. At least that's what he thought. Nothing but the blank sea and swaying of various boats covered his vicinity. It must've been the wind harshly blowing the impossible over. Maybe a barrel, the teen thought as he cautiously resumed his empty wandering. Although he dismissed the distraction he couldn't help the jolting his heart was doing now. It was true… many people in StoryBrooke took him on as the Dark Prince after the Queen fell. Odd that it was that he hadn't heard this somewhat empowering title till recently, as in within the year. It did and didn't bother him. Reason it did was the name itself was shivering to his ears. Yet, on another note it didn't because it gave him ties with his mother. Yes, she was the Evil Queen and yes she was his mother, so it only fitted to be the Dark Prince for the nefarious deeds she'd done in the past. So he decided to revel in it, but only recently it was since—

 ** _Metal screeching against metal_**

Ok, what the hell was that?!

Again he whipped his head about trying to find victim of the alarming sounds making presence. Still nothing showed. A gust of air settled from his lips. He has been threatened and occasionally, shoved by others lately like his moniker, but damn he if he was to live in fear. That's when he heard the telltale signs of footsteps echoing behind him on puddles of water slapping knowingly. He's not going to lie, his breath hitched. There hasn't been dismaying things in StoryBrooke for a while, so it's only natural that this occurred. He has to squint at the figure… or figures before him as the wind roars in his pale face and hair dances which way and that. That's when he notices the weapon of choice grasped in their hands and various character masks staring blankly at him.

Legs start to backtrack slowly on their own volition. It's now body over mind as he tries to connect the dots. Every half a step back from him is one full for the masked. His mind hasn't connected. Eyes hunt for a route out. His mind still hasn't connected. Feet start to stumble and trip over themselves on their own accord. His mind still hasn't connected. Weapons are raised and singing for the body of their desire as the masked approach further. His mind still hasn't connected yet. Qualms in his stomach are clashing at war with each other signaling the fight or flight. His mind… chooses flight. The volition of his legs finally catches up to him as he sprints down the pier with the cold piercing his skin and the fear radiating his body. He's in a purgatory of feeling hot and cold. But that doesn't matter as he glances over his shoulder to see the trouble coming behind him. He tries to count how many there is but can't.

He has to make it home. He has to make it home. He has to make it home. He has to-

"Ah, fuck!" he seethes. Leg cramp.

Shake it off, shake it off, shake it off.

This costs him a few steps but still he continues. The slapping of water is nearer than before. Dare he spare a look?

"Shit!" they're on him. Detour, there's no other way. The cramp in his leg resentfully stiffens. Fuck. Now his gait is somewhat limping costing him helluva a lot. He needs to disappear. This limp will only slow him down. Where to? Where to? Where to? Boats? No, no too obvious, they'll see him. Keep running? Fuck, no. This'll only tire him more. Warehouse? Warehouse! Yes, yes! Plenty of obstructions in there to cover him.

He rounds the corner of one practically burning rubber on the soles of his shoes. Instead of disappearing in that one he goes in the one over hopefully to baffle the masked. Sheen of cold sweat is sticking to his forehead as his chest heaves, searching for something to cover him. The inside barely lit but dim thanks to the gloomy weather, but he takes it. The sound of metal chinks a distance away from him. He gathers that he has a few seconds to spare. Again, eyes hungrily hunt for his safe haven but to no avail is it given. He decides to get lost. If he can get lost, then hopefully so can them. He starts trotting about the maze of pipes switching up corners to think of something. Luckily he finds a door and prays it's unlocked. Arms lunge out for the brass knob as it givens and pulls the door out. Yes! The locks click softly as the door closes and settles. Henry studies the room to see anything of use to hide in or at least use for defense. The latter is useless since the room is filled with crates and other nonsense but fits perfectly for the former. He could hide behind some crates… or hide in one. No, he shakes his head. No use in doing so if there isn't anything to cover up to elude himself with he thinks. He scrounges the room fervently in hopes for something. What he comes up with is a heavy roped fishing net. It's pretty dense so it should help him out. Now only if-

Yes!

There's a nice secretive corner in the room his lank body can fit in. He can elude himself with the fishing net while hugging his knees to his chest with a crate in front for safe measure. And that's exactly what he does. He deftly moves a crate positioned to hide him while he wrangles the fishing net over him. Only thing to do is control his breathing and pray stupidly that he won't be caught.

As he huddles in the damp corner he can't help but think of a lesson he learnt in history class regarding the Jews having to hide constantly in their own homes or in the streets from those Nazi bastards. A ghost of a smile crosses his face as he remembers that exact day. He was enraged and saddened of the events that went on during the Holocaust and came home emotionally distraught only for those feelings to alleviate when his mother came to the rescue. Her lulling voice soothing him claiming all those poor souls are in paradise now reading all the comics they want. He chuckled at that.

They had a fun time that day, him and her. Games were won and lost. A pristine kitchen the Mayor of StoryBrooke prided herself on was basically covered in flour and other sticky nonsense. Sugar and other unhealthy food were gorged down happily as if they both succeeded in an arduous workout from the gym. Hell, they've must've pulled a prank that day on someone, probably Mary Margaret. The pain she took away so easily from him didn't go unnoticed. He longed for those days again.

The woman was a miracle worker; his breaths had steadied from the previous panting he was doing. He really must've led astray the gang coming up that's it been at least a good ten minutes to go by. Thoughts on him moving on out from this cramped space ceased when the jingling of a rickety knob sounded. Every inch of his body, from the wisps of hair on his neck to the tingling of his toes, paralyzed as if he was buffering. Which, granted, he technically was. Instantly the image of metal screeching against the concrete, while sparks spritz animatedly, flitted to the forefront of Henry's mind as he heard the exact same a few feet away. Tendrils of ice swept along his veins just thinking what the person obtained that can make such an ugly noise. Not long from that thought did he hear other footsteps accompanying the leaders.

Although he had no clue how many were trailing him Henry did conclude who is and isn't the leader. Despite everyone wearing different masks some had the same theme. The majority was with masquerade masks ranging from the absurdity of them all from mundane to feathers poking out like sunrays. They all seemed to share repetitive colors: red, white, black, and gold. Opposed to the leader's whose mask was one that sent goosebumps over Henry's skin. His was a theatre mask. Only instead of one or the other it was a cross of both where one half was the grimace of learning a terror dowsed in blood red. The other half being the sickening smile of pleasure dowsed in black with eyes gold. Was this supposed to be juxtaposition?

Fear was the teen's motivation now to make it out unharmed. What had to be minutes ebbed to aching seconds—fingers crossed—that no one would notice this ordinary corner. That or the least a dismissing glance is all needed of.

When he heard those menacing footsteps retreat further and further to nothingness is finally then that Henry lets out a violently shaking breath. Never in his life has he felt the amount of terror that he just witnessed. Truth be told, he felt like he was in the Purge, and oh what a thrill! Nothing positive that is. No sir, that was freaky as fuck.

He slowly ascends on his wobbling stilts (because now that's what his legs feel like from the ungodly position he was in) carefully untangling himself from the fishing net. God did his back hurt! Now he had to walk home hunched over like a hermit only to emit more reasons to add to the town's whispers about him. Whatever, he shrugged. All he needs to do is get out of here and then-

"I see you're done playing hide-n-seek. Or was it peekaboo?"

How do you describe what the teen was feeling? Imagine your heart leaping into your throat where you start to gag on it desperately clawing fleetingly at it barely getting in the necessities of air to survive. On top of that, those stilts he was configuring himself on now just splintered as he drops to the floor naturally splaying his hands in front of him to break the fall. The skin of his hands chalked itself against the pavement displaying the raw meat he was now wincing immensely from. Forget about the pounding throb at the back of his knee, no, those hands are going to hurt like hell when alcohol is poured languidly on them. He's alternatingly nursing the other while the leader towers over him with a crowbar exhibiting between his hands—almost the way Mr. Gold stands. The thought of that imp over him has Henry scuttling backwards only for his back to be met with a crate.

The fear in the teen's eyes are so discernable that only someone without a heart would proceed with their plan. Yet, Henry doesn't know anything about this person. For all he knows, it could be some douche from his school. He involuntarily lets a whimper out. What frightens him more is the leader craning his neck at Henry from his whimper; looking at him like he was an abstract piece.

 _Da doom! Da doom! Da doom!_ _Da doom!_

Oh god, the boy's heart was thudding so frenetically it was thrumming away in his ears adamant on letting any other sound through. He could barely get the words out without letting weakness color it.

"What…" he cleared his throat, "what do you want?"

"My, my look who has the gall." The leader clucked his tongue. "What I want…" he gestured towards his chest. "What I want is nothing my dear boy. No, no, no. I am simply taking immense pleasure from this." He rocked on the ball of his feet.

"Yeah, well go fuck yourself. I'm sure that'll give you waves of pleasure than this shit!"

A long, pitching whistle sliced the warehouse air, by the great acoustics, from the leader. "Woo wee! I think we got ourselves a potty mouth folks! I think a lesson should be taught, don't ya think?"

At the last of that two others emerged from the shadows the storage room had to offer. It was like the shadows bled two forms of pure darkness or something similar. Both had different, yet similar masquerade masks attached to their sinister faces. One a raven and the other a crow.

"And to think what they said about him." One grunted.

"Mm. More like the Prince of Cowardice." The other haughtily remarked.

"You're just going to stand here and taunt like little bitches, or are you going to get on with it?!" Henry hissed with as much venom he could muster; his eyes playing hot potato on all three towers waiting who would initiate the beating.

Call it a twisted way of luck but Henry internally let out a thankful sigh that the other two shadows didn't have a weapon to beat him to a pulp with. He can take a punch, that's no problem. But that crowbar… what the hell was going to go down with that?

It may have been dark in the room but he was searching anything close in his grasp to defend himself with; he was not going down without a fight.

"Ah, I see you get your tongue from that mentally challenged bitch." The leader perked up at the end bouncing on his feet.

"Don't speak of Emma that way!"

"Why not?" He cocked his head, "Surely you are aware of the Savior's actions lately? I mean with the stop sign and that poor cat," he tutted, "she certainly hasn't been in her right mind."

"Or that time she hit that mail box and then ran from the scene." Raven crowed.

"I think she was staggering." Crow raved.

During their exchange Henry hurriedly grabbed for the crowbar fully aware the consequences his hands were going to protest over. He had a firm grasp on it before it was too late.

The leader as if on cue pulled the crowbar straight up from Henry's grip, like unsheathing a sword, as the rusted metal on it rubbed grimly on his raw hands leaving a much disheveled Henry squirming away. There was barely enough time to register this deep seeded pain before a new one took over as said crowbar was blunted squarely, and firmly, against the bridge of his nose. Blood was starting to trickle fervently down his face pooling over his mouth as he moaned his complaint.

"Eek!" If there wasn't a mask on the leader's face, a grotesque look of disapproval would be seen. "Yikes, man. Bummer. Talk about a cosmetic injury, huh?"

The teen's response was quickly jutting out his leg to the leader with much force compelling the bastard to topple down and smack his head to the side of a crate.

The last was a bonus.

Unfortunately it enraged him and caused for the repeating stabbing pains brutally lunged at Henry's back. Once. Twice. For the nth time came guttural moans of someone disgustingly beaten just wishing for them to be put out of their misery. The shadows were unrelentingly hurling kicks to both his sides, with the velocity of trains, as the tips of their shoes would tunnel deeper with every thrust in his ribs. A bubble bursting of discomfort every single damn time as a plethora of pure anguish and agony and… and just… _pain_ washed over him. The worst of it all was the lucidity of all this. He long ago welcomed for blackness to enclose him so the masked will just be beating a dummy, but no. He was awake with the stinging of tears hotly cascading his bloodied face while bellowing this horrible predicament he was in. The beating didn't last any more than a handful of minutes but all the same it felt like an eternity. By the time the torture was up he can hear that shallow panting all parties were doing. Theirs from exhaustion, his from the broken ribs he gotten.

But, because he is his mothers' child, "Is that it?" it sounded nowhere near anything except for a strangled, hoarse whisper and almost a plea.

The only thing that was matched was the silence that lingered, causing to unnerve the boy having the assumption that there's more than the hell he just been through. He's already mentally prepping himself when he hears and feels a resounded flop on his stomach. _Plop_. This only causes the waves of soreness to ripple through him.

"Get yourself cleaned up." Was all that was said before hearing the door shut.

Undulations of discomfort groaned over the teen's body. The only movement he could muster was the writhes against the chilled concrete floor. His eyes unceremoniously lolled to and fro as stabs of pins emanated from his head. Agitated hands involuntarily patted his stomach seeking the offending object laying on him. It felt cool and familiar. As he slowly raises it to his vision it is then the hope he feels sore through him. A phone? Yes, yes a phone! Without thinking twice he swipes his way to the contacts and instantly is met with disapproval. Damn. There were only four numbers he knew: 911, Emma, his deceased mother, and his grandparents. The latter was no use since he long forgotten it in spite of them. The one he yearned to type was gone and caused more pain, this time emotional, to emerge. No need to call county he thought. Why? Gossip. Gossip. Fucking gossip. He could go without the streets of StoryBrooke discreetly whispering how he got his ass handed to him by the theatre department. An unamused chuckle hurtled its way out of him. Yeah, that would just do it. His last option, yet reluctant at that, was to call Emma.

He types the number feeling less confident in each next digit pressed. He closes his eyes and waits for her to pick up.

 _Ring. Ring. Ring._

She'll pick up.

 _Ring. Ring. Ring._

Her phone must be a ways away.

 _Ring. Ring. Ri- You have reached the voicemail of 2-0-7-_

 _Click._

A sigh is heard in the room. Henry can't help but let the storm of emotions engulf him about his birth mother but instantly stops. The rational thought would be that she just didn't hear it, or had it misplaced and was looking for it. So he tries again holding onto the spark of hope still flitting.

Six more times and all were failures.

His mind is sour and bitter now as he open the gate of emotions flow through of Emma. This was stupid, absurd even, that she couldn't pick up the damn phone. She always had that thing on her. Like those aged men with the clip-on cases on their belts that looked pathetic, but privately you knew it was great in case of emergencies. A thud was heard as he hit his head against the floor. Leave it to Emma to fail to complete the simplest of tasks like picking up the phone. Leave it to Emma to ignore the one time in so long that he reaches her for help. Leave it to Emma to fail him over and over and over again that it hurts physically to see his only parent left screw up so easily. Leave it to Emma for him to feel alone in all this while he drowns in his sorrow and feelings of morose all the time.

 _Leave it to Emma…_

 _Leave it to Emma…_

 _Leave it to…_

 _Leave it…_

 _Leave it to her…_

 _Leave it to the one…_

 _Leave it to…_

Sirens started to whir in his head shrieking continuously. Dagger-like pokes go relentlessly at his mind with the chants of "leave it to Emma…" hissing, vociferously pounding away at him. The volumes of the pitch hits crescendo after crescendo unapologetically. He prematurely covers his ears as it only worsens then. It is as if a golden egg is centered of his brain screeching away its delight, with no water in Henry's vicinity to plunge his head in for this sound to turn into angelic song.

Blood starts to stream from all holes on his face while eyes rapidly skitter from white to pungent black and back again to green irises only to repeat. The base of his voice goes unheard as he belches his heart out of the voices screaming at him; moreover his body is starting to seizure as his back unnaturally arches at excruciating angles. Oh it's an unforgiving sight to see him at his worst so far with none to help. This only continues on and on, scream after chilling scream, blood as thick as tar and red as crimson seeps like sap from ears, eyes, mouth, nose, painting a portrait on his face. It's skin-crawling. It's offensive. It's all too much, all too much. That the last thing he's aware of over his cries is nothing. His body goes limp.

* * *

 **You guys are awesome for the reviews and follows! Even if it's to point out the misinterpretation of a word *looks away*. Stickers for all of you! Hey, don't act like you don't like them, they're guilty pleasures. Especially this scatch-n-sniff one... heh, heh? Hey, who thinks the EQ and Mr. Hyde would make a good pair? Just me? Hmm... Review please, thanks. |-/**

 ***What? You are mistaken, *big ole grin on face, but you don't know that... oops*, I am NOT researching more on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and asylums and mental disorders, nope, not at all... What? Am I self-advertising? No! I mean, like, if you like my writing... then this doesn't count *wink (but you don't know that)* Review, thanks again.**

 **[pss! I wrote a one shot? called At Night, check it out if u want and tell me what ya think ;) ]**


	5. Chapter 5

**Short but sweet chapter  
** **also,  
** **wrote a one shot called Follow Me, check it out if you want.**

* * *

"So… I saw your car parked over at the library today and thought what's up."

"What's up?"

"Uh, yeah? You know, um…"

"No, I don't know"

"Like, what were you doing?"

"That's my own business"

"I know, but aren't I privy to that?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because… we're friends?"

"So?"

"So?! Don't I get to know your whereabouts wink, wink, hint, hint?"

"Why would you say 'wink' and not actually do the gesture?"

"Does this look right?" She winked her eyes exaggeratedly and nudged her shoulder against her friend to emphasize the "hint, hint."

"For you, yes. Yes, it does."

"Shut up!" She playfully shoved the other woman.

"If you must know…" her lips pursed, "I was checking out a book at the library."

"Jeepers!" The brunette rolled her eyes at the infamous catchphrase the blonde said, but all the while couldn't force the smile off her features. "Mayor Mills… you read books? Public at that?"

"I gather you don't? Well, you should. You could use some exercise of that brain of yours. If you want I could check out The Cat in the Hat for you, it'll let you get use to rhyming."

"Naw, more of a Green Ham and Eggs gal myself"

"You mean Green Eggs and Ham?"

"Sam I am. Now do try this spam" A platter of Spam appeared in her hand while teasing it at the brunette.

"That… that looks and smells revolting"

"Like you?" She challenged earning a raised brow.

"Hm, I guess." She reached her arm out to the blonde's waist. "I was depicted as a hag in that treacherous Disney movie." Her voiced lower by the second as she was face-to-face with the blonde. "And I guess if you're a hag it's only right you smell of urine and feces," she said as her plump lips ghosted over the blonde's.

But cause of the wordplay the blonde pushes her majesty away. "Dammit," she groans. "Why'd you have to ruin the mood?"

"Surely I didn't. I was going to repeat the same actions just with heated words. You had to ruin it with your Charming vernacular." She shrugged. "So I helped."

The blonde gaped, "You were-you were going to kiss me?"

"Maybe. I was going for a hug."

"Your lips almost touched mine!"

Again she shrugged. "You should talk to our son."

"Huh? What're you talking about?"

"You're failing him, Emma. Henry is in a world of hurt but you're being too shellfish in your own to take notice what's it he's feeling." She takes a step back from the blonde.

"What!" She shrills. "I'm doing the best I can! If you forgot, I am also hurting here. Your death hasn't only affected Henry so deeply." She reaches out for the brunette's hand but the other retracts it.

"Talk to him Emma."

"Let's talk this through. Surely you know more than I do. You can help me, please!" tears are starting to swell in her eyes as she feels herself stirring, heading back to the living.

"Try, Emma. Quickly before it's too late," Already the vivid picture of her majesty is flicking intermitted and becoming translucent.

"No! I need more time. Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me," she is basically chanting now thinking it will keep her rooted. Keep her placed in this perfect place where they can explore and live freer to no standards and rules and disapproving minds. Already their surroundings are turning from familiar scenery of StoryBrooke decrepitating to eye-stinging of pure white.

"Try" is the last, barely audible, sound of advice she gives Emma before herself is vanished.

"Regina!"

A surge of golden blonde hair upshot from its previous position snuggling comfy on a pillow seconds prior. It was a tangled mess on the owners face and showcased as a curtain. Said owner flicked hair away now showing the redden face of her.

Emma paused as she took in her surroundings. Being in so many foster systems caused the panic attacks she would have from waking in a new room earliest of arrival of a new home. But even before her mind could catch up the scent of Her filled her nose instantly resulting those would've-been-frayed-nerves to nothing but content.

The dream, that should have been fresh in her mind, is nowhere near. All she can remember is yelling for the brunette. That alone sends a splash of nausea. Right when she had her she had to slip away through her fingers. Story of her life. An irritated sigh escapes and the blonde petulantly falls back onto the bed wishing she can stay there longer. How long she's been out? Who knows? She checks her phone beside her and is puzzled by the missed calls, unknown at that. Huh. She decides to call back but to no avail is a voice heard. Right when she's about to try again is when her phone rings. "Unknown Caller" is what it reads while she thinks it must be the same person. She answers.

"Hello, Sheriff Swan you're speaking to."

"Warehouse 5, the bathroom on the seaside."

"Excuse me what?"

"Warehouse 5, the bathroom on the seaside. You might want to hurry before he dies." _Click._

Warehouse? Bathrooms? Wait, he dies? What the hell is going on? Seaside, seaside, seaside…. Wait docks? Yeah, yeah docks. The frazzled sheriff is so baffled that she decides to call back the number as she jumps out the bed, desperately missing its warmth, stumbling over her feet as she yanks her jeans on. Before her finger ghosts over the number called she receives a new one.

"Huh, yeah, uh Sheriff Swan."

"…"

"Hello?"

The only noise that's heard is ragged breathing, heavy at that, like she can feel it coming through just moist and hot.

"Listen, I don't have time for your fuckery. Either state your emergency or-"

"Ma…" she froze.

"Henry?" She tentatively asks.

"I'm-I'm… I need your help" his voice is croaking disgustingly. She can hear him spluttering something up before he continues. "Ware-Warehouse on the docks. I'm…" more heavy forced breaths, "bathroom… blood… just lots of… oh god." _Click_

The monotonic tone of a call that has ended mocks away Emma. She is long gone from the room taking three steps at a time down the stairs and jumping off the rest of the way. Her heart is drumming against her ribcage thinking of the inevitable and other dire scenarios. She's already at her….

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Fuck her. Dammit! Fuck. Just, ah!

 _Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck fucking me! Why am I such an idiot?! Gah!_

She had walked to the mansion, remember?

She is berating herself heatedly in the driveway kicking the pavement, scuffing her boots, and running shaky hands through her hair. The sun is setting by the minute and she has no ride. No, she cannot call her parents because as luck has it, they're on a retreat up north for Snow. She can call Ruby… but how far out is she?

 _Ring Ring Ring_

Emma's leg is jolting this way and that waiting for the stupid phone to be picked up.

"Deputy Lucas… oh, Emma, what's up?"

"Ruby!" Praise the heavens! "How far out are you? I need a ride."

"Uh… sorry. I'm actually out of town getting certain things for the diner. Where's your car?" Damn the heavens!

"Henry's in trouble, I think he was jumped and at the warehouse by the docks. Just hurry and get your ass here for the investigation, gotta go!"

"Ok, I'm-"

 _Click_

The sheriff went on a full out sprint towards the docks silently pleading for those random jogs to be worth it. Surprisingly enough it wasn't a long run, that or she was the freaking Flash, zooming her way through the streets. It was dusk now and she had a difficult time finding the label Warehouse 5. So instead, she yelled out his name going warehouse by warehouse, turning here and there, and slamming things screaming out in frustration after no reply. An addled mind is a fault mind and it just worsens from there. Rivers of tears flow from her stinging eyes as she calls out frantically for her son. "Henry! Henry! Henry, please!" It's dark, it's below freezing and dangerous considering she stepped on some unknown glass and pricked her hand twice. But all that is numbed to her as her heart just wants the one thing she can never seem to get, her son. Out of frustration she hits a pipe in warehouse 5, that she's unaware of, that bursts, gusting steam at her. She's coughing and losing her sanity even more when she hears glass shattering. Her head is rolling 180 trying to discern the noise that could be a clue. She thinks she is hallucinating when she hears it again and this time makes way for the noise with a heartbeat pumping a hundred beats per second. That's when she sees him.

Oh god he just looks worse than before. The blood that was fountaining from his face has caked on into a mask of gore. He's barely gripping the sink now with his tampered hands from punching the mirror, twice. Spit and blood are dripping like a leaky faucet from his mouth as he sparsely breathes. There's a laceration under his broken ribs that's swollen.

The sight of him brings the savior to her knees in front of him. She wants to cradle his face… but there's so much blood. Where is her son? Her Henry? The teen with the chisel features? She gulps down her disgust, not at him, but the condition he's in, and gingerly holds his face letting a sob, or a couple loose. Emma has to get herself together, she can't leave her boy like this; he is barely conscious swaying to and fro before her on his knees. "Ma…"

"Yes, Henry I'm here. Stay with me, stay with me." She is sobbing in his matted hair now. Her body is shaking uncontrollably against his motionless one.

All he remembers is screaming. Oh, the screaming. The cries for help or just attention, or the hisses and sirens screeching in his head he recalls. Then the thick as tar blood oozing from all crevices of his face, and tasting it. As sharp as metal and cold as ice, what blood is cold? Other than amphibians. _Ba dum tsk._ He still has his humor, he notes.

"Ok, we're going to-" she swallows another sob, "we're going to get you out of here. Let me call the ambulance."

"No"

"What? Why not?"

"Don't… want… whispers about… me." As best as he could he looks eye-to-eye to Emma in the very dim bathroom. The lights are flickering sporadically and a buzz is humming away. "They see me… as a _freak_ … I don't need any-"

"Any what?" She coaxes him.

"Anymore… _stuff_ said… about her" he says weakly slumping on her for support. Then and there he blacks out.

"Henry, Henry," she slaps his cheeks repeatedly praying to any god for her boy not to go, not this way. "Henry, baby wake up, wake up." His eyes flutter momentarily then go still again. She takes this as a sign. She gently lays him on the dingy bathroom floor muttering an apology as doing so. She then digs two fingers in her jeans and pulls out her phone, squinting at the screen from the dimly lit room, and searches for her husband's number.

"Aye, ready for mo' captain and his swan time, luv?"

Unexpectedly hot bile rises in Emma's throat and burns it.

"Killian,"

"Swan, what's wrong?"

"Henry, he's… it's not good at all. There's blood and bruises and-and"

"Take a breath luv. Calm breaths."

She does as advises and calms some but the overall anxiety is buzzing to life in her now. "Get the cruiser. The keys are in my red leather jacket. And," she falters, "don't let anyone know where you're going and don't turn on the sirens." She brushes her fingertips across her son's hair ignoring the goops of blood eagerly attached to them. "Warehouse 5. I'm in a… a bathroom…"

"Already on it, luv" the call ends.

And now…. And now she waits. Why, though?

Why?

Why?

Why?! Why, fucking why?! She snarled.

Why should she be waiting for medical attention for her son? Why is she in this code violation of a warehouse? Why is she sitting on a sticky bathroom floor that may or mayn't have rodents scurrying along the depths of the walls? Why is her 17 year old son unconscious in her lap with blood splattered on his face and battered to the bone? Why now? Why ever, really? Just… _why_?

 _Becaussse… everything that comesss your waay decaaysss, ssssooner or later_

Oh, god! Everything that does come her way decays to the touch. Regina is gone. Henry is beaten to a pulp. Their relationship is strained to the extent by now. Her once love wasn't even that; she is now in an unhappy marriage. She barely speaks with her parents like she used to. They're nothing but mere glances and a once-in-awhile dinners or occasions. They might as well be states away, at least then there is reason for little interaction. Her job is practically on the line now if it weren't for her mother being mayor. Even the residents that looked up at her like a halo awed at now twist their faces to that of sympathy, pity, and even shame. Like she is their responsibility, like she is on a pedestal then fell abruptly from it. That… that right there hurts, it wasn't until then that realization dawned on her how much the town and residents meant to her.

 _You are a faaailuure. Nothing more than a fossster child. Intolerable, incorrigible, a dissaappointment, sshameful to be around, and ssooo much more_

Tears collected in her eyes and fell freely from gravity. She was so much more, so much to be a burden around. Who could ever want her? Why should she deserve to be loved? All she is is disposable. A piece of waste: disgusting, nose-scrunching, eye-watering of a piece of shit. Her life was crappy from the get-go. It was indifferent if the Evil Queen sent her to this land. She was no fool; she knew if she was born into royalty she would've been married off and expected upon on everything, lives of the kingdom, economics, coexistence with other kingdoms, all of it. She was meant to live a crappy life. It was meant for her to live in misery, even if that misery is veiled as a happy dream. She was worth nothing.

 _That's right. You are nothing but a puuny human; an agitating speck of dussst. You call yourself a ssavior? Ha! The only ssaving you can do thiss town is decimate the title. It's eassy. Your gun is holstered onto your waisst. Die with your boy. Be a family in an impeccable sssanctuary more vivaciouss than your dreamsss. With Reginaaa…_

An addled mind is a fault mind.

Incognizant of the true repercussions this will follow with, Emma's fingers slowly crept to the holster of her gun. The weapon felt like stone weighing her down immensely than known, but she was unaware of that. The slithering voice was right: she can die with an unconscious Henry, he's probably dead already. She looks to see if his chest is rising and sees nothing (Again ignorant that the room is dimly lit. Nothing is perceptible). Her clammy hand coils around the grip.

 _Regina… your true love iss waiting for you now… you and Henry. Go be a family, the one you alwaysss wanted. Don't fail her… again._

 _Again._ She already failed once, no it will not happen again. She's right, she can go and be the family she always did wanted. She still wants it. The room is filled with such a noisy silence you can hear the soft click of the safety being turned off.

 _That's right. Carefully raisse the gun to your temple. Feel the coolnesss of the barrel? It's relaxing isn't it?_

It is.

 _Mother and sson dying concurrently. The white knight and her truessst believerr, both missing their Queen dearly only to find that she's a breath away. You know what to do._

She does.

 _Pull the trigger Emma. Die with your son. Reunite with Regina. Be happy together. That is what you deserve. Take it!_

Emma takes one last look to her son, maintaining eye contact and petting his hair the whole way through her reprieve. It is not a suicide attempt. No, far from. It's her reuniting with her family and leaving the others behind without her burden self. Yes, that's what it was. Her reprieve.

* * *

Killian struggles unbuckling from the blasted metal box. He should've known better, he should've known better. Oh bloody hell why did he do it? He jerks the car door open tripping on the way out and scraping his hook against the pier. His face is red and blotchy from the perspiration he's been doing on the way over. His bangs are damp against his forehead slick with sweat. He's mumbling curses to the horizons of the seas finding his way to Warehouse 5. He knows his way around, he's been here before.

Aye, he was stupid. He should've bloody known! It's practically his fault. The boy's… the boy's probably-

"No!" he reprimands himself. He will see for himself when he approaches the boy.

He's already in Warehouse 5 with eyes playing tennis in search of the stairs to the bathroom.

The Warehouse is so quiet that he hears a soft click. Thanks to his pirate days, he's able to discern the way the sound came and instantly spots the stairs.

Taking two steps at a time he is thinking sourly if it's too late. If the boy has passed than surely he would be in a better place, right? He recalls his brother, Liam, going to paradise from his unfinished business. Surely Henry hasn't anything to do with this foul of a town to be stuck in the Underworld.

He can see a very faint light radiating from a room and makes way.

 _He's not dead. He's not dead. He's not dead._

He desperately thinks. Chants. Henry can't die. No, it wouldn't be right it would be… it would be… it would be unacc-

...

...

...

...

...

 ** _Pow_**

* * *

 **Wrote this listening to New Romantics,"wtf? That contradicts this negativity." |-/**


	6. Chapter 6

"What do you mean it just happened?!" Oh god.

"I-I mean… it just did! I was there then… ploop"

" _Ploop?!_ "

"Yeah…"

"YOU LEFT OUR SON ALONE!" the wince the blonde was doing from that roar was too visible to deny.

"It's not my fault!"

"WHAT?! What the hell do you mean it's not your fault?!" Regina was doing nothing but screeching now from the absurdity of it all. "You knew the consequences! You knew the dangers of the job! You knew what to do! Yet, fucking yet… you decide to go ahead and throw caution, the one thing that is vital for Henry and you, to the damn wind." She says while pointing her finger nowhere, aimlessly just to emphasize her point.

~Cfys~

Emma was freaking out by the minute. All she remembers is waking up in a plain desolate field with nothing familiar miles away. It was a haze all around her. The sun nowhere in sight but instead a sky painted of a depressing grey. The ground beneath her bared feet was rough, dry. There were fragments of cracks leading to all directions like a deserted lot. The air was damp and humid. She could already feel her hair frizzing slightly at the ends. She began walking to God knows where for what felt like many sun rises and moon falls. ' _it's weird_ ' she thought at the time, ' _I've been walking for what feels like forever and yet I'm not here with Henry or Regina. Regina. Where is she?_ '

 _" **Oomph** "_

Lids to a pair of eyes slowly open as their retinas singe with a hot light emanating onto them. It takes a while for them to assemble themselves to perceive their surroundings. Surrounding that is unfamiliar at that, but that's the brain's job. They send the signals to the owner's brain to analyze where they are. It's then, that those same eyes widen taking in the sight above them. Another pair of light chocolate eyes studies them with recognition.

"Regina?"

~Cfys~

So now here she is… in a screaming match with the Queen. One of which she has no right in partaking. Why? Well of course from the lies spewing like a fountain out her mouth.

"What do you want me to say?! It was irrational thinking, yes. But it happened out of nowhere. The guy-the guy…"

"Do tell sheriff, enlighten me again." A heated glare was directed Emma's way and the woman herself felt either to melting as putty or dying. Too bad one of those options was out the way.

"The guy… he had a knife and was going to slit the poor woman's throat. I don't know what was wrong with him or his motive. But no one should live to that… to-to knowing your throat would be cut open any second something goes wrong. God Regina…" _Gosh, Emma, you're lying through your fucking teeth right now,_ the blonde thought. "It happened in a flash. I somehow grab the lady and threw her aside. Next thing I know I'm fighting with the turd and he stabs me. Ok? That's it. I'm stabbed and bleeding out with no talkie or whatever in the damn dark part of an alleyway. 'Kay?"

Regina heard everything, but didn't believe it. She knew Emma was holding back. She knew this woman she hasn't seen since the dream Emma had was weaving lies in front of her. But why? Why does the sheriff have to lie how her death came to be? Was it cause of Henry? All Regina knew was he was self-tormenting himself from her death. She didn't see why though. It's not like it was his fault. All these whys were beginning to irritate at her now. There have been nothing but these and other questions bashing away in her mind. However, knowing that Emma left Henry to the unknown pissed her off immensely… and Emma lying.

"Why are you lying? You aren't here by that. How the hell did you really die Emma?"

* * *

 ** _Pow_**

"Eeeeemmmaaaaa…"

"Stop."

He stood in front of the pirate studying his form. Killian was in midst of a full out sprint, one foot off the ground the other extended to its maximum. His eyes were bulging aware of what he just heard with his mouth opened wide from screaming the blonde's name, or… rather still screaming the blonde's name.

The steps of the magician echoed with a clicking as he languidly made his way where the blonde resided. He tilted his head back seeing the dim light flicker amusingly then waved his hand to brighten it. He let out a displeased grunt from the state of the room. Eyes didn't even roam over to the blonde and the unconscious brunette until he scanned the whole bathroom. When he did see her, he tutted. Her fragile state made it too easy and eager to manipulate her, otherwise she should've withheld. She was the savior after all, wasn't she supposed to demur from such magic?

The sight of blood splattered on the side of the rusted sink, some on the wall, and few specks on Henry—a distinction from his and hers was evident given his was crusted—put an honest smile on the tall man. Putting his cane aside, which remained perfectly balanced sitting straight up next to him, a hand dug into a pocket. He brought out his phone, no longer a magic box since he became accustomed with this world's pleasantries; he snapped a few pics of the dead savior and her son in her lap. Some from this angle, some from higher up, ooh, the lighting was great over here, was all he was doing like he was from forensics.

He took the time to swipe through each pic and smiled at them. His personal favorites was a side shot showing the bullet hole in Emma's skull with her hand lazily clutching Henry's shirt. The other was a close up shot of the boy; from head to the mid of his chest, it was a nice pic. Although… he waved his hand and instantly the teen's face wasn't caked with all that blood but was clean and spotless like earlier. The camera on the phone made the shutter noise as the magician took an identical picture of the one previous he was admiring. There, now that's a nice picture. He should scrapbook it.

Despite the urge to admire his photography skills more, he had to get going. His nimble hands ridded up his designed trousers a bit while he knelt down in a squatting format. Next to Emma that is. Dark eyes analyzed the diameter and circumference of the bullet hole the muzzle of her gun so gently helped with.

" ** _Mmmgghrrslf_** "

He needs to get going, the boy's stirring now.

A fore finger of his raised perpendicular to the bullet hole, the tip of his finger to the center of it, and started to glow slightly. A prism of colors wisped from his finger as thin, long tendrils spiraling around one another went centered into the bullet hole on the blonde's head. If not for the morbidity, offensive, ghoulish, or nay things of the scene depicted, one could say that wispy tendrils of fervent colors dancing out his finger was utterly awestricken. It was as if a rainbow was dancing lively. Even though it's not seen, those rainbow colors make way throughout the tunnel of the hole in Emma's head navigating throughout for the bullet. It then encompasses the bullet and pulls it out of her head. The way you hear a coin ding! is the sound heard—if anyone wasn't frozen, unconscious, or half dead—ringing along the confines of the room as it hits his hand, like how you grab a coin falling from the sky with impressive smit.

Oh no, Emma isn't dead… yet. Luckily the savior was inept at even a proper reprieve. Although, that was the plan all along, part of it, maybe a catalyst. The thin man chuckles darkly to himself, he should keep this as a souvenir.

 _That would be horrendoussss._

"True that may be, but it's not like anyone knows about it."

 _They'll know. They will question why the bullet issn't located in her sskuuull. They will think it probably have had shattered._

"Then we'll do that. Have fake remnants of shrapnel scattered a ways in her brain. But they'll only be illusions to the eyes of the doctors and won't cause harm to her. "

 _What happensss when they seek it out?_

"Again: illusions. They'll be there to their eyes, but to others there will be nothing."

Still squatting above the ground, the magician's hands tentatively brushes against the side of the savior's face. He smiles and wishes her the best of luck. The teen on the other hand… what luck does the slender man need if everything is falling into place. He also brushes his hand through Henry's long locks playing with the goop of blood at one end. He waves his hand to have the crusted mask of blood back on Henry's face. Can't be tampering with evidence, he amuses himself.

" ** _Mmmgghrrslf_** "

"Time to get going," he grabs his rooted cane and makes to leave, but before he does…

"Resume"

"Emma! Emma!" Killian gasps seeing the sight before him.

 _Will she die?_

"Of course not"

* * *

"YOU'RE LYING!"

"I'M NOT!" She is.

"Oh, yes you are dear. Spit it out now or I will force it out of you."

Emma lets out a resigned sigh. "Ok… I'm going to tell you this once, which is it. I died from getting _stabbed_."

The Queen was livid now. The rest of the words she seethed through her teeth. "I will give you this last chance Emma Swan. How. Did. You. Die?!"

The blonde, so headstrong, looked directly into her love's eyes. "I got sta—"

 ** _Wham_**

"Ahh… Fuck! What the hell?! My fucking… shit this hurts!"

The deceased Mayor was standing over a battered sheriff, just punched, while she was shaking her hand out. Regina couldn't help but smirk at Emma writhing on the ground as she held her nose.

"I will give you one more fucking chance Swan. Why are you really down here?"

"I told you, I got… Ahhhh! Fuck! Stop, stop, stop!" She was splaying out her hands now to avoid more kicks.

"I will," **_oomph_** , "stop kicking you," **_oomph_** , "when you tell," **_oomph_** , "me Savior," **_oomph_** , "why you are," ** _oomph_** , "down here!" **_stomp_.** That last part she literally stomped on Emma's hand with her heeled boot.

* * *

"Tell me what we got"

"Female in her early to mid-30s with a gunshot wound in her cranium."

"I need a gurney!"

"Gurney" the doctor nodded his thanks.

"Where?"

"Right temple, 8 centimeters deep."

"And she's alive?" he couldn't help but voice that. He and two to three other residents and interns were attending the gurney pushing their way through door-by-door with fluorescent lights flashing across their faces like being in a tunnel.

"She was just seizing no more than 5 minutes ago."

"How much blood has she lost?"

"Hard to tell, but an estimate of…"

"Pulse?"

"Faint, but there."

"We're going to have to get her stabilized."

Right dead in that moment a kid no more than 8 years old spots out who's on the gurney and immediately questions her parent. "Mommy, is that the Savior?" she says while pointing to the limp sheriff.

"No, honey it's…" the parent's eyes widen with fear. "Oh my god, it is. Rick! Rick!"

"Honey, what is it?"

She (rudely) points over the sheriff who resides in a separate room. An ICU that is. The curtains are hurriedly drawn to secure privacy for what's about to go down.

"Was that the Savior?"

"It was. Who would do this?"

"I don't know. Do the deputies know? What about the mayor?"

"I don't know. I don't think so, otherwise they would've been here, right?"

"I'm going to go call…" Rick's attention is instantly taken away from his task when he sees what couldn't be but the Savior's son being wheeled frenzy throughout the hall on a gurney. John's face pales at the sight of the boy. There's no recognition of him at all. The only clue given was the hair and the attire he saw the teen wearing earlier today grudging about on the docks. His eyes not once move from the scene as his head pivots witnessing it all.

"Oh my god," the mother, Stephanie, says. "What the hell is going on?"

* * *

 ** _Gasp_**

Coughing…

More coughing…

Still coughing…

Basically Emma was spluttering for air to get in her lungs. She sounded like someone who has smoked constantly in their life only then to get a whiff of fresh air, but instead it betrays them. She was keening over on her side still coughing up water and saliva. Her insides burned.

They—her and Regina—were at the docks now. She was still being adamant, and frankly a jackass, on not telling the brunette the actual cause of her death. She knew if she told her that she wouldn't be viewed as the same way those honest, brown eyes always looked at her, like she was worth something. Verbal abuse has been hurled her way nonstop since she was with Killian. Hell, even sexual derogatory comments were serviced to her by him before they even decided, or rather her ' _stupid_ ', to give them a chance and explore something. There was something, at least what she keeps telling herself, in the beginning a light spark at that, but still something. Walsh didn't turn out to be who she thought, Neal had just passed, and a whole year or a lifetime given to her bestowed memories, with her son was all false. That struck something in her when she recollected her actual memories.

Killian was there. He sold his beloved boat for her, so that had to be worth something, right? No one has ever done such an act or plainly given up something for her. So yes, she at the time thought that it was a selfless act and so started searching for reasons to at the most attend a date with the lewd pirate. No, it wasn't her best point, but not her worst either. Just, no one has ever showed that much affection towards her since Neal. Killian's declarations of love and undeterred faith that he will win her heart, she scoffed, were convoluted. That's the word right? It seems right, she concurs, because she was not a possession or prize for anything or anyone for the matter. So his silly heartfelt speeches did nothing but vexed her at times. Yet, she really can't recall someone being that determined on her, on an "us" after Neal. She was someone not meant to be loved, to be cared for, and to be looked upon with such love and adoration that it would turn anyone into a puddle. She was supposed to be alone, misunderstood, leered at. That was supposed to be the way of her life: bails bondwoman, occasional hook ups, maybe one serious relationship mingled into there at some point, and never looked for twice by anyone. Shit, she already had her funeral planned; she was going to be cremated. Nobody would've ever known about her if they looked, she was Houdini.

Despite all the odds though, her boy, Henry, the little irresistible infant she gave away for his best chance, found her. Of the billions people on the planet, she never once would've thought her own son would want to meet her… want her at that. How could anyone? Being a high-risk in the foster system didn't necessarily get you any social points. Being abandoned by a freeway didn't scrub the doubts on why any loving and caring guardian let alone parent would want her. She was weird, timid, and plain. Beige was she. She was another statistic; nothing great, nothing meaningful, just average. And that is what she believed her whole life, being mundane like anyone else. Only difference was she wasn't going to take no crap from anyone. She wasn't going to be tossed like an unconcerned sack of waste. She had enough of that in her youth, but it didn't alter that she wasn't one. She was, no, she _is_.

"So are you going to speak now, Emma?"

"Huh, what?" Her fucking throat was scratchy from the drowning she had just done.

Regina lowered down to the blonde's position and held her jaw pointedly with one hand, digging her nails in the soft flesh of the Savior. Emma winced, but maintained her hold.

"I said," her lips went to the shell of Emma's ear, lightly feathering it. "I said are you going to speak of the truth how you are here, Em-ma?" She's teasing now.

Emma looked at her briefly contemplating should she really tell her. Where the hell was Henry? He was dead too right? Unless…

 _Oh shit!_

Her heartrate skipped a beat.

* * *

"What was that?!"

"Her heartrate… it skipped a beat."

"Dammit!"

 ** _Beep…. Beep…. Beep…...…... Beep…._**

"It did it again, sir. Her heart seems to continuously pump at different intervals but then goes flat momentarily. What does it mean?"

"I don't… I-I… I really have no idea," Whale puts his arms up behind his head as he tousles with the back of his hair. He has no clue what's happening with the Savior. They have to get her body stabilized to start work on the bullet in her brain.

"It keeps palpitating! How do we stop it?"

Watson, another resident, provided. "Could it be health oriented towards thyroid imbalance, anemia, or low potassium? Does her medical history say anything useful?"

"No, it doesn't. She's in perfect health. She was just in a month ago for a checkup."

"So if it's not that or AFib, what the hell could it be?"

"She's sweating, why is she sweating?"

* * *

Emma's body was shuddering from every word, coherent at that, making out her mouth. Beads of sweat were rolling fervidly down her face. What has she done?

"You… you killed yourself?" Regina was awestricken. The words just said from her tongue felt funny, irregular, and foreign.

 _No._

 _No, no, no, no, no!_

The Savior doesn't do this! No, to hell with the Savior, _Emma_ doesn't do this. Emma wouldn't do this… would she? She looks down at the disoriented Sheriff of her once little town. She is just sitting there. Doing nothing. _Nothing_. The word rings in the back coming to the forefront of Regina's mind. This is not the same meaning Emma had in mind; this one is one of hatred.

"You killed yourself. Why?" She denotes with the spirit of the Evil Queen that still lives in her.

Emma looks up at her, sheepishly, and decides in that moment that she will not tell of Henry getting jumped and looking unrecognizable. She will not tell of his suspension from choking another student. She will not lead on of anything pertaining to Henry but only that he is still grieving for his adoptive mother. Even if it means getting her ass kicked the blonde will take it. Killing herself for her own shit than for her and Henry's and the people of the town was far more crucial to be left with than delve into the misconstrued.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ever read Locke and Key? Listened to Back to Black the Gatsby remake writing this... the deep/dark wobbler sound and Andre's voice gave me life to this, when high, sober though... it's still dope. Dramatic orchestrated music works too... :P**

* * *

"The question is why she isn't dead?!" Whale fumed out.

"Because she is the Sav—"

"Don't give me that Savior bullshit, Lionel!"

Nurse Lionel easily snapped her jaw shut. It wouldn't be mistaken that much in the room—disregarding their doctoral and such degrees—had faith that the Savior could make it through because… well she was the Savior. Their naivety was always questioning to Dr. Whale when it came to magic and science. Obviously science was more rooted, more understanding rather than the willy nilly magic this town has manifested itself around.

"Fuck," he moaned out. This was an interesting but difficult case. Interesting because he has never heard of someone still alive after a blatant bullet shot straight to their head, but difficult because this was the Savior's life he had in his hands. Any other and he would feel no pressure. But hell no! Leave it to the damn Savior to take on the impossible.

"Look," he beckoned towards the hole in her head. "It's evident that from the diameter of this hole and the stretch of it that she was held straight at gunpoint. The bullet's projectile should've easily skewed the other side of her temple. So why isn't there another hole? If she was held at gunpoint with the muzzle of the gun directly on her temple than this should be more of a mess than what we're dealing with. Let alone she should not have survived this. Savior or not, this is an unavoidable death."

"Should we get the surgeon? Maybe she could help with what's happening."

"We're not getting Lee, no. Especially not now when her body could crash at any given point from these sporadic heart palpitations." He turned his back away from the other residents and nurses while nibbling on his thumb.

That said more frequent palpitations were going rampant of the machines as the Savior's body was convulsing violently.

 ** _Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_**

"Hold her down! Get the sedatives!"

"What level?"

"Deep"

"She's not breathing," Watson calls out.

"Shit!" Whale rounds the bed and pulls out his stethoscope listening to her airways on her chest. He then quickly checks for a pulse point and comes to a conclusion. "Put her on general anesthesia with air ventilation of the endotracheal tube.

"What sedation?"

"Etomidate"

It's all a blur in the room. Just a color of scrubs skittering around one another to get the proper tools needed to keep the Savior stable. One nurse is prodding her arm with an IV to get the sedatives to work immediately. A resident is carefully, but with agile movement, sliding the tube ventilator down Emma's throat. Another nurse is maintaining the heart monitor. Some inconspicuous staff member sets down a tray of whatever while deftly grabbing something out of Emma's jacket that resides on a chair.

"What the hell are you doing in here?!" Whale cries out spotting the hospital staff member.

"Just bringing our lovely patient some provisions. She's going to be somewhat famished when she's out of that coma right?"

"Get the hell outta here, or next time I'm firing you on the spot!"

"No problemo, señor." He says putting his hands up in mock salute while backing out the room.

* * *

"You tried to fucking kill yourself Emma, what cowardice isn't portrayed in that?"

"I didn't even try, it was like… like…"

"Like WHAT!?"

"Like I was under a spell dammit! Ok? I felt like someone was and wasn't controlling my actions, my limbs, and my train of thought. Although I agreed with everything they were saying I knew I wouldn't stoop to that bar."

"Well we're all unaware of what we're capable of."

"What is that supposed to freaking mean?"

Her majesty threw the Savior an accusatory look. "What it _freaking_ means is that I don't believe you, Ms. Swan." Oh, damn. We're at that formality now.

"You just couldn't take it anymore. You felt the responsibility, the pressure, the anticipation, all of it overwhelming your senses just pent up notch by notch strangling you."

She got in Emma's face even closer and dropping the base of her voice to that of the Evil Queen. "Each pillar was intimidating than the next; you felt as if it were to crumble and topple on you. Collapse even. So instead, you folded. You didn't even run as you are oh so notorious for, Sheriff. No, you simply gave up. You lost that backbone of yours. That high and mighty self-righteous ego you Charming's are identified for." Her delicate hands gripped Emma's cheeks as she pulled her face closer to hers. Each word said next was laced with ice—cold and biting than the last. "You became a nobody. You _are_ a nobody. _Nothing_ is what you are to your mother, father, brother, and especially our son— _my_ son. You decided the "easy" way out, if that doesn't scream coward than facing your problems, than I don't know what does." Emma's face was shoved forcefully from Regina's grip.

Her heart must've carried a knife with it and was inflicting self-harm. Because that same knife was slowly twisting… and twisting… while pushing itself in, still twisting. It was sharp, the pain, dull the knife. No, cos a sharp knife would've been felt right dead in there. A dull one though? A dull one was taunting, mocking if Emma said so. It just enjoyed the torment it would inflict on its surface and keep going, it would continue on until the mission was completed and things were unrepairable.

* * *

"We're losing him!"

"No, we can't!"

"Cut his shirt open, now."

The teen was barely conscious as it was now. It was in and out, in and out. One moment he saw the stern demeanors of doctors and nurses towering over him as caterpillars of lights raced above him. Occasionally he deduced they were in a new room from the sound of the gurney hitting two forbidding double doors.

Then everything went back to black.

He had opened his lids again only this time witnessing nothing in the room. It was just him in a displeasing hospital gown and the sound of the heart monitor noisily beeping. Having his fingers sweep along his chiseled face he was relieved to feel nothing of the mask of gore he had. He looked around taking in the baby blue curtains giving him privacy from other brownnosers this town is made of. It was relatively quiet compared to the squeaking of nurse shoes going on the other side of the curtain. He decided to just leave it at that and fall back to the unknown.

One last time he let the bleach lights of the hospital burn his retinas as he took in his surroundings again. He was glad he was here. After the pain he endured he didn't know if he could call for help after his tried attempts. Everything was just so… unexpected. But then again it was likely. He was different after all, no one really stood up for him. There were stares leered at to his way with the same spite and disgust that never once failed to show. Other kids would shove him in the halls of school into lockers, trash bins, doors… it all really. But he was strong; he just would dust it off and carry on with his day. Like his mother had told him to do when the bullying did start, pretty screwed up of her not to do her job. Parenting that is.

His chest started to tighten and burn a bit. Weird. Now there was a tingling sensation going on in his left arm. He clutched it while grinding his teeth to ride out the pain. Gosh, this hurts! He was starting to feel woozy and getting cold. Wait, cold? It was just warm a second ago no doubt. Why the fuck is he sweating, he thinks as he wipes his brow with his clutched arm. There feels like there is a vice on his arm as it tightens lazily like a boa constrictor. Why is he feeling this? What is going on? He looks for the little remote hospitals usually have to call for assistance. But to his avail no luck.

In that moment a doctor pulls away the curtain as he makes way with his eyes averted to a clipboard in his hand. "Good news, Mr. Mil—"

"Help me," the teen grouches out as he grasps his chest almost too forcefully as if he is trying to rip away the skin.

The doctor, Greyson, hurries over to the brunette and immediately sums up what's happening. He then jogs to the middle of the hallway outside the room the teen resides in and calls, "Code Blue! Code Blue!"

How a team of specialist like the Avengers can assemble within a matter of seconds is the same with the hospital floor.

Doctor Greyson runs back in dashing milliseconds and starts with the procedure as other specialist bombard in the room flinging the curtain to the side with less care. He starts with CPR pumping the teen's chest as shown in med school (or his memories of going to med school).

1… 2… 1… 2… he repeats over to himself trying desperately to resuscitate the boy. Already it's a fail and so he begins the actual work with the Code Team.

* * *

 _We're all bored…_

Jay makes his way to a janitorial closet in a deserted hall in the hospital. He looks to both ends of the halls to ensure that he won't be seen. Duffel bag, check. Key, check. Smitten demeanor, well… he'll always have that, regardless of the changes he's going to notice once again. He picks the lock of the closet and is immediately attacked with the chemicals and disinfectants used to sterilize the many floors and halls of this place.

He starts rummaging through the bag sighing at the attire he will change into. It's been heck of a while since he wore this, but he can't be recognized with the orders he has to comply with his boss gave. Or rather that little stout man, Lawrence, gave to him from their boss. Seriously, he did all the dirty work pretty much, so why couldn't he get his direct orders from the man himself?

A petite floral shirt goes over his head as he wrestles into it. Why couldn't there be a mirror in here? At least he can tell if the collar wasn't crooked; his physical appearance was important. Loose, yet tight jeans are also struggled with as he tugs harshly at them up his thighs. Shit! How the hell do chicks where this crap? Constricted is what he feels all over in odd places here and there from the tight clothing. But that will all change in a second. He stuffs the original clothing, the scrubs he was wearing earlier, into the duffel and zips it up. The item that he took from the Sheriff rested in his duffel as well, so there was that. He grabbed the key needed and put it up to the door knob of the closet. Although there wasn't a key hole there because it was locked from the outside, one magically appeared taking in the key he pushed in. Jay twisted it and easily walked out.

"Ma'am, what were you doing in there?" A nurse inquires.

"Fucking my imaginary friend. Anything else you need to know… sir?"

The nurse blanches at the vulgarity thrown his way by the Miss, but disregards it thinking it's for the better. "No… just don't do so again. Only certain rooms are accessible to staff and others to visitors, understood?"

"Yes, sir" Jay remarks with as she walks briskly away from the idiot man.

* * *

"What now?"

"Get Lee and the other surgeons ready. While we can we should get the shrapnel out her brain."

Emma's body was now stable. It has been more than ten minutes since the anesthesia was inputted in her and everything was fine. Whale needed to get her in surgery as soon as possible or there would be dire consequences.

Problem was… Whale couldn't help but chuckle that a new problem has arisen. Ah, yes it seemed the Savior was headstrong from giving up on resistance. In fact, Emma was in a fit of seizures as it was now. Her limbs were jerking that of fish flopping out of water. Giggles started to uproot in Whale's stomach while he internally tried to push it down. To try and make it cease. He couldn't help the thought though: the Savior coming out of the frigid water as she flopped lazily on the deck with her mouth gaping. Or in fact, he thought, that she was tasered with her own gun only then to jerk helplessly on the ground. The sight of the blonde doing so had Whale giggling out loud now as he and others were holding down a flopping Emma. He hurriedly tried to cover his mouth and conceal his fit of giggles into a cough but there was no such thing.

Then another picture sparked in his mind: that of Emma splashing around in a kitty pool trying desperately to stay afloat. Or maybe that other time when she hit a mailbox on Main and instantly fled from the scene out of her cruiser. She must had been drunk, it occurred to him, because next thing what happens is the Sheriff staggering around only to retch on Ashley's child in the stroller. Oh, now he was outright laughing to all his colleagues' faces. Whale took a step back as he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of all the things the Savior has done. She was their town's dunce as a matter of fact.

Every time he tried to compose himself there it was another image of the Savior doing something whacked like falling on her ass in dog shit, or accidentally getting hit in the face by a waving hand calling for their order in Grannies, or squirming from the scrutiny her son gave her lately like she was the idiot. Now Whale was hunched over clasping his knees from the stream of laughing fits forcing its way out. He's trying to save her? The _Savior_? He snorts amusingly at that. She hasn't been doing any saving as of late. Actually, there has been a couple of deaths in the pass years since Her majesty that the Savior couldn't stop. Hell, not even the deputy—the Prince. They were incompetent. They weren't fit for ruling. Hell, they weren't positioned for protecting this town. Not anymore that is. The town was in a budget deficit from Mayor White's incessant need to drop uncalled for street signs in the oddest of places. Her husband bullied himself onto innocent others trying to regain that taste of valiancy he once bathed in. Hook was… well, being Hook. But even that was a problem with his unknown whereabouts than loitering at the docks lately. The Royal family was truly ignorant.

"Dr.?"

Victor was now covering his reddened face from all the laughing he was doing. This family needs the saving, not the title of it.

"Dr. Whale?"

Crap, the Queen was better off running this town. Being still cursed wouldn't be all that bad now seeing how things were now.

"Whale?"

"Huh," he giggled.

"Sir… are you ok?"

"I'm…" a bit of giggling. "Ahem, I'm fine." His lips quivered like waves.

3…2…1…

"Pa haha haha haha!" Yeah, no he was not fine.

Luckily the other interns and residents were able to subdue the Savior where they were sure that there wouldn't be any more disruptions.

"Sir, how long had you've been up?"

His giggling had to die down some before he could muster a coherent response. "Uhm… *** _giggles*_** … it's been, I don't know… *** _snorts_ _*_** … 2 days?" He covers his mouth with the nook of his arm trying to muffle the cynical laughter.

Nobody is upset towards him, well kind of; it is just that this is very out the norm for their leader to do this. They all were aware that he was Victor Frankenstein, so being deranged came with the identity, but this was a whole new side they witnessed that of Whale.

"Uh, if I may sir," spoke Lionel, "I think you should go lie down for a bit. At least until you are more rational and uh, won't accidentally cause the death of our Savior."

A spurge of giggles and gasps for air had Whale sliding down an empty space of a wall. "Savior?!" *** _giggles*_** "The only saving she is doing is not causing may-mayhem and idle late night drunk binges." His voice is tinged with laughter and amusement.

Lionel tries to reach her hand to her leader and help him to his feet, but Whale just turns against the wall with his hand close to him and continues. "You know… *** _giggles*_** … y-you know what she did a few nights ago?" The nurse shakes her head. "She came to… *** _giggles*_** … came to my house and said to me… **_*giggles*_** … mind you she was-she was drunk… says to me," he sobers up momentarily, "'What's shaking bae?'"

He then hopelessly rages into another fit of giggles like a school girl trying to hide her attempt of denial that she has a crush.

Everyone looks at him puzzled. But he goes on, "She… ***** _ **giggles***_ … she said it while shaking her chest claiming that she could… ***** _ **giggles***_ … could use a-a _'mammogram'_ " his face is that of a shade of an apple. The only sound filling the room is the sound of manic giggling.

* * *

She needed to get out of here. Too much was at stake now thanks to the Sheriff. But first…

"You know what I did to cowards?"

"Given that you are using your intimidating voice, I'm gonna go ahead and say, I don't know… torture them?" The blonde squinted up from the pavement to her love's eyes. Regardless of what was going to become of her, she still was mad for the Queen.

"Being a smart ass I see?"

"No, just answering a question."

No, the Sheriff was being a smart ass.

"Well, to answer your response: yes. Yes, I did torture others." Regina flexed her dainty fingers.

"So I guess you're going to do it to me as well?"

"Yes, well the thing is…" Regina looked directly into the green orbs that took her breath away. For a number of reasons that is. "You are not dead Emma."

And she got the reaction just what she wanted. Bulging green irises seemingly lost for a lack of words. Perfect time to jump in, she thinks. "Just think of this as a jump start."

"Wait, what do you me—"

 **~Cfys~**

"Clear!"

 _ **Zzzzzzzz… ZCHUNK**_

Emma's body arches off the gurney.

 **~Cfys~**

"Ahhhh… What the hell?!"

"Shut up, Ms. Swan I'm helping you."

"YOU JUST THREW ME AGAINST A FUCKING WALL!" Emma was now flat on the ground feeling unpronounceable jabs of pain roll against her back side.

She didn't even get the words out before Regina had flung her into the nearest brick wall. She doesn't know how they even got here so fast. Weren't they just at the docks?

"I told you I am helping you… sort of." A smirk blossomed beautifully on the Queen's face. Truth be told, she was assisting Emma to get back to their son, or rather her son now, but all the same. Henry definitely shouldn't be left alone up there. "Ready?" she called out.

Emma barely had time to protest before she felt the back of her head being smacked against the concrete.

* * *

"Clear!"

 _ **Zzzzzzzz… ZCHUNK**_

"No pulse!"

"We're losing him, sir!"

"Increase the voltage then!" Greyson yells out.

"Increasing to 80 ohms. Charging..." [ **machine whirs** ]

"Clear!"

 _ **Zzzzzzzz… ZCHUNK**_

* * *

"The Savior is not responding, take it higher." Commands Watson.

"Increasing to 100 ohms. Charging..." [ **machine whirs** ]

"Clear!"

 ** _Zzzzzzzz… ZCHUNK_**

"No pulse!"

"Still not responding, sir!"

"Dammit!"

Lionel decided to go again. [ **machine whirs** ] "Clear!" but still nothing happened.

* * *

" ** _Oomph_**!"

"Feeling anything there, Swan?"

"Go to hell Regina!"

"If it has to do with rescuing that bacteria of a pirate, than I rather not again if I say so myself," she simply replied with.

' _Being dead for a while must have made Regina bitter,_ ' is all Emma could think without causing her head to spin and throb even worse. She wasn't going to admit because… fuck her, but Regina was right about something. Emma was having a sensation of an out of body experience. Astral projection if she remembers correctly. It's as if she was starting to wake from a dream and feel her body stir. Although, this pain was helluva not worth it if it meant she would return.

"Ready again, Em-ma," again the brunette hollered out. Queens don't "holler," but as always there is an exception to Regina.

Emma wasn't going to say anything how she was feeling, but she also knew she wasn't going to stop being tossed like a rag doll. So she elegantly gave a thumb up, that is as a smart ass retort.

Regina smiled at the battered Sheriff and her attempt to muster up a gesture through her egotistical pride. ' _Maybe I should throw her in the wall again_ ' she waved a hand and over yonder her Sheriff went.

* * *

"Again!"

"Charging" [ **machine whirs** ]

"Clear!"

 ** _Zzzzzzzz… ZCHUNK_**

"No pulse!"

"Again!"

"Charging" [ **machine whirs** ]

"Clear!"

 ** _Zzzzzzzz… ZCHUNK_**

"Aga—"

 ** _Gasp_**

Jumps and shrieks were all heard throughout the world as the Savior rose back from the dead. She had honestly ascended from the gurney like one would abruptly awake from their coffin. She looked around and couldn't believe what she saw. She was back. She was literally back. But how was her son?

* * *

"Again!"

"Charging..." [ **machine whirs** ]

"Clear!"

 ** _Zzzzzzzz… ZCHUNK_**

"Again!"

"Charging..."

"Clear!"

 ** _Zzzzzzzz… ZCHUNK_**

 _"Again!"_

The rest of the room looked at Dr. Greyson like he was a madman. This was their umpteenth trial at resuscitating the 17 year old. It had to be called.

"Dr.…"

"I said again, dammit!" he slammed a tray of medical equipment. His eyes scanned the room for any followers but all had a look of pity and remorse on their faces. It had to be called.

"Time of death, 12:36 a.m." A nurse bitterly said.

An eyesore of a white sheet was veiled over the young brunette's body.

"I'll go try and tell his mother," a nurse offered.

"No," said Greyson sullenly, "I'll go. She's unlikely to reply given her state, but it's for the better."

Greyson started walking down the halls feeling like there was a spotlight shone on him. He decided right dead in there that before he delivered the news of the teen's death that he would make a quick stop to his other patient.

He drew the baby blue curtain back while composing his face to that of cool. The brunette looked up from the intruder.

...

...

...

...

...

"Ah, yes. Henry Mills, how are you feeling now?"

* * *

 **Apologies for any incorrect med terminology, it came to the point where I looked up "** what is the machine that makes a beeping noise **" and Google was basically like "bitch, heart monitor! -.- Yo, Bing! Can you believe this dumbass?!" "What they search?" "What machine makes a beeping noise" "Aw, hell no. That truly is a dumb bitch..." So, yeah -_- I do my research for y'all. Immense thanks to my new followers and readers, truly. **


	8. Chapter 8

… _we're on the road to ruin_ …

Music is so good today, depending on others tastes and preferences. Whether that differs from the demeaning things said about women on radios or those bands so good that they should gain popularity but yet shouldn't so they don't become "mainstream" is indifferent. There is at least one song out there for everyone, or an artist, that many could relate with. Jay couldn't help but think of the infinite things she has yet to discover.

Back in her homeland music was a luxury she couldn't afford to listen to. Of course given her original ways; but damn this world if not for its variety of genres and different takes. Passion, imagination, determination, and much more were poured into an array of tracks that one could listen to on their own whim, and boy was she having one right now.

" _Cause baby I could build a castle_ … _threw at me_ … **_oomph_**!"

She had just fallen flat on her ass shimmying her way through a window _. Great, it was already flat enough, no need to make it into nothing._

She made way to where the stairs were in the house she had invaded and was quietly humming away the tune in her head… and occasionally whispering out the words.

There was a flashlight in her gloved hands as she shone it here and there across pictures of the oh so once happy family. Although… at least one of them was, the others were as bitter and disdainful of that of having to go through airport security. The house was bland and not so homely, all these years and she has yet to properly decorate? Huh. Each step she pressed on with her weight would either stay quiet or creek a bit of the disturbance it was receiving. The whole house was eerily quiet and cold. Her body had to withdraw in the too big jacket she was donning from her recent body switch.

Predilections for the male body she would sport were always more favorable than her original one. Not that she was ashamed to be female, more so that even here woman were viewed inferior in society. Despite those traditions it wasn't as worse in her homeland. Here she had choices, that of which she was more than grateful for.

Everything she was ordered to comply with by now was starting to occupy her on how this was going to turn into a droll. She was basically doing the work of moving men. Door by door she swept by in looks for the one that was her priority to handle. Some of the rooms were just guest bedrooms, and from the scene of it, barely touched. There was probably more dust accumulation than actual air residing in it. Still her eyes were roaming across the mundane wallpaper, _wallpaper? Who still does that?_ that depicted the depression it was burdened with of no pictures to give it a lively feel. Honestly this was alarming how sad this house seemed to be.

Finally she had made it to the room of her desire that was to be emptied. Jay cranked up the upbeat singing of her infatuated idol at the moment and started the work needed to be done. It was nice of her boss to leave marked boxes of what belongs where in the room for Jay to deal with. He may be a cynical, sinister, conniving, manipulative, and so forth bastard, but hey she was glad to know him. They matched in a way him and her.

Rolling up her sleeves and pinning her hair up, Jay went straight to work unpacking the room of things needed to make the owner of it feel comfortable. Clothes, knick knacks, posters, both board and video games, along with electronic devices were all suited up in their assigned boxes. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. Delicacy was handled with every item she packed away. She wasn't really much of a fan of half-assing things. You were either all in or out.

Here and there through her cleaning process she would break out into a dance singing along with the music blaring from her phone, " _We are too busy dancing_ … _new romantics_ …" And when the song ended, it would just replay itself again. In spite of this being a boring task to handle she couldn't help but relish in the upbeat lyrics making things more bearable. She would use the flashlight as a microphone and twirl around in the room occasionally stumbling into something such as dressers. Next she would then burst out giggling at the absurdity of the situation. Part of it, whole of it, future plans of it, all of it actually was a mess. One beautiful, magnificent hell of a mess. There was no idea what was the main motive, but she was in it for the chaos.

She stayed lied down of the occupant's bed swaying her feet back and forth letting these thoughts and that run rampant in her mind. Some of the past, some of the future, some of the now were all dancing away. Her fingers moving of that orchestrating a symphony to the song and still whispering out some of the lyrics she was doing away with. Idling around wasn't in the job description, but her boss, or rather Lawrence, did say to do away as she pleased to other parts of the house.

You know what? She was in a good mood, so she sprang right up and made way to another room and decided to pack some of their stuff too, now that she was finished with the initials'. That person did went—and is still going—through much and so it would seem the correct thing to do in making them as comfortable as possible like her first priority.

Straight in she entered the room and was attacked with eye misting cologne that was so pungent her insides churned with nausea. But it did not waffle her good mood but did appeal to her to complete the task faster at hand.

Having pushing curtains of leather from both parties while still listening to her music, she was able to distinguish whose was whose and other articles of clothing she packed away into some already filled boxes. The person didn't really horde much stuff. _Probably cos of their vagabond ways_ , she thought.

That's when her leg bumped against a bag on the closet ground. Jay bent down to inspect the offending object and found more clothing. One of which was … in a Ziploc bag? Having opening it she was instantly met with a heavenly scent.

 _Whew! That smelt euphoric._ She was definitely going to have to find the perfume to this. Leaving everything as is and taking the duffle bag into the other room—and taking the Ziploc bag herself—with the various boxes, Jay couldn't help but feel accomplished. No more than a few hours and things were packed and ready for their new residence. Taking this in, she decided to play a number of songs upbeat and whatnot and jumped away and danced throughout the room.

Twirling daintily here and jumping on the queen size bed doing somersaults there. All of it was fun to her. Fun wasn't in her life much, so she had to implement it in the narrow spaces she could. Though she did love doing nefarious deeds that were assigned to her, it was relative to goofing off and showcasing her indecisive manner.

But alas she was able to do so sooner or later.

Long ago she was to report her finished task, but instead thought to scrounge around the house still busting moves to the music. Pictures here, picture there, important info of birth and such in this draw were all things she was collecting. Though she did not have to, but she wanted to. Those items were stuffed away from sight in a separate bag kept on her. It seemed everything told to be dealt with along with other things were all handled with. _Guess it's time to be skippin'…_

 ** _Ggggrrrsssfl…_**

 _After a quick snack_ , she thought.

Making herself at home, the complex chick went her way into making a sandwich. She fiddled with these and those ingredients in the fridge and closed it with a soft kick. Utensils needed for this scrumptious sandwich were all but found after going through an impractical amount of draws. Still, she was dancing around constructing her meal while occasionally singing lyrics of that blonde.

"… _out of all the bricks they threw at me_ … _battle_ …" * _ **Dramatic head roll. Spin on spot and flip the piece of bread in the air.**_ * " _Heart break is the national anthem, we sing it proudly_ ," * ** _pump fist in the air for show of pride_**.*

All of this was being done in the dark.

Her snack was finished with—and her choreographed number— that she then went into the living room and flopped on the couch. Discomfort was more than dispersing throughout her body from the beating she had done hours prior. "Ugh!" she more than bemoaned. Was it because of the pain she was slightly in? No. She just recalled that for a while now she will have to go through once a month bodily torture that defines her "womanhood". Menstruation. Petulant did not cover the way her whole demeanor changed. The firm grip she had on her delicious snack became limp as her shoulders sagged like that of a deflating bouncy castle with her head dropping down slightly. Pink bottom lip jutted out from her face after coming to terms that she was really going to have to go through this. She could only have faith that it doesn't come until way later or that if she had to do a quick gender switch in mid-cycle that it wouldn't disrupt it.

"Ugh. Bein' a woman is so diff'ult," she voiced with a piece of sandwich in her mouth. Maybe television would help.

* * *

Dammit Emma, dammit Emma, just… wtf Emma?! She had to pack, where is the- She had to get out of here. Anywhere but here, anywhere. But where?

Regina stopped all hasty movement she was doing and leant back against her closet door. Clothes were scattered all over the vicinity of her bedroom. Everything has changed. Nothing will be the same again. Just from the Savior's "supposed" death has shifted the tectonic plates. Quakes weren't felt yet from this catastrophic change, but that didn't stop her from shaking violently herself. Her back slid slowly down the door while her head repeatedly thudded against the wall. Knees drew close to her chest as she held them for dear life. Eyes avoided the crystalized body mirror across the room in front of her. Reminders on how pathetic she looked were not called for. She was warned if she ever intervened with his personal affairs. Hell, she knew the consequences! And yet… and fucking yet she rebelled against those simple requests.

She wept. She wept loosely and freely for the pain she would have to suffer and endure for every waking last moment. But these weren't quiet weeps nor full out hysteric cries (not yet) just the sort of screams of someone knowing what their punishment was. A tiny stream of black coursed down her face intertwined with tears staining her cheeks. Mascara it was. Breaths were starting to become ragged and her brain was beginning to short circuit.

Her afterlife was shit.

There wasn't a dead soul for her to confide in. Everyone was either still alive or have completed their unfinished business. Fuck, she wish that she had unfinished business, then there would be a chance to move on. Hers had to be Henry, right? That's the only given reason that she helped the pitiful sheriff of her once lovely town. To be there for Henry; moreover to make it that he doesn't turn out how she was, no is, no _was_. He will not live in a world where all his parents are gone. Neal was gone—begrudgingly Regina liked him some. She was gone herself from the unfortunate events that came to transpire a while back. So the only suitable, yet not accommodating at all, choice was Swan. At least then Emma would have a chance to raise Henry herself and deem what is necessary to teach the young brunette. She couldn't go wrong with him, could she?

"Of course not," she whispered to herself.

 _Denial._

"No. No. Emma was a fighter, that's it. I-I didn't really mean what I said to her back at the docks."

"So you're saying that you let your emotions get the best of you?" An eyebrow arched. "Huh? How delicate dear."

Regina's face hardened from the accusation hurled her way. She was a Queen, still is if she's adamant about it. Queens don't run on emotion. They make decisive decisions regarding what is best for the people and loved ones always. She scoffed. "Well at least I'm not _you_ anymore. All you have to show is holding a decades' long grudge against the insipid White."

"Mm. True that may be—"

"Uh huh."

"to an extent. But I am who I am. She molded me this way and I have cultivated that image and became the genteel woman I am now. The same genteel woman that is a part of you." A heated glare was thrown her way.

"I am _nothing_ like you!" Regina boiled. "I have never wanted to become that _monster_! That monster that killed villages; that monster that killed her own _father_ ; that monster that hurt the ones who I loved. The same one that people feared and hid their children from. The same person whose head was wanted on a _stake_. I am not that, nor will I ever be again!"

Momentum was gaining from both parties speaking.

"Of course you are—you had to be! You're telling me that you would rather be that same Queen confined in the walls of her own home day in and day out being raped repeatedly like you were some normal masturbation toy?! **Battered, bruised, broken** is all what you became when you were with that sea troll abomination." Words were seethed and spat to the recipient. "You were innocent, you were young, you were meant for greater things! But instead you were weak. _You_ are the one with no backbone! _You_ are the one with the self-righteous ego that you let the Charmings _imbue_ into that daft mind of yours! You _failed_ Henry. You _failed_ Daniel. You _failed_ Emma. Everyone… yourself most of all. You are, and still is, _nothing_ Regina Mills. You have defined yourself to be dependent upon others. Upon a rugged forest boy; upon a self-absorbed clan you claimed as "friends" and "family"; upon the greater good is all of what you have centered yourself around. Like you are the paragon of transcending the realms of evil to that of light—the good—that has focused in that impenetrable brain of yours is _what you_ _ **claim**_." The last part remarked in such a gruff manner you could feel your vocal cords strung and neck strain.

" _Shut-up_!" Her eyes pierced to the mirror.

The next was said in a calming tone as if they were speaking to themselves but still it was eerie.

"You were helpless…; you couldn't do anything. When he came into your chambers in the mid of night, slowly like a predator in those drunken hazes, stalking to your bed when you were peacefully resting…."

" ** _Shut-up_** **!** "

"The bed creaking from the dip it would take of his concrete body. He, not even giving you warning." Tuts were given, "And just pinning your hands above your head with a grip rivaling a complicated knot. In fact, did he not sometimes preemptively tie your hands? Or had others? Over the head, behind the back, at times the front?"

" ** _Shut-up! Shut-up! Shut-up! Shut-the-hell-up_**!" Her hands covered her ears with her head cowering shaking at the disapproval of it all.

"And he would just PUSH INTO YOU! Thrust like a panting dog! Harm you if necessary to keep you quiet! Come into you so much you were practically filled with more of him than you! Blood Was Shed, Cries Were Shattered Out, Pleads Were Unheard Of Yet They Were _Heard_ From **_Everyone_** , Skin Was Torn!"

"Shut-up! Stop-stop, just… st—"

"I will not be addressed to in such a manner, Regina!"

 ** _"_** ** _Gggllslsalkfjksag"_**

Strangled attempts were being made in order for her to breathe again. Desperately, frantically, she was clawing at her throat with her wine painted nails. Red angry lines puffing by the second were trailing over her neck as those same lines were digging into the tan flesh of what was the Queen. Her airways were closing under the ceaseless ticking playing in her head. The hourglass was becoming short. Sand was lessening by the next grain falling. Negative thoughts told to her, about her, about others, her whole life admittedly was flashing before her eyes flipping to the next scene not fast or slow enough. Continuous were these pictorials flashing away in her mind with a loud ticking beating in her skull.

Unknown to her there was a cloud of different density ranging from thin wisps of the outer smoke to thick fog in the center, all on the spectrum color of green enveloping Regina from her feet. Lazily was it snaking around her pedicured feet up her slim legs licking every part of her. Still she was clawing fleetingly at her throat with more disturbed lines to show for it as she arched off the floor. The thick cloud of shrubbery reached to her head and it is then she notices what is happening. Eyes bulge to the unknown magic gulping her and before she could even think to make a form of action she was gone.

* * *

"Do they have ice cream?"

Jay pushed herself off the sofa of the house she broke into in search for something to sate her sweet tooth. It was coming into the wee hours of the morning. After her snack and countless television programs she felt refreshed and ready to get to the major task at hand.

She sighed. Seems like there weren't any ice cream or sweets to help in the kitchen. For real, what is wrong with this lady?

 _Xylophone. xylophone. Xylophone. xylophone._

"Yeah?"

"Are you done, or are you still doing away as you please _?!_ " Panic was plain to the ear of the receiver.

"Well… I did complete everything instructed. _Then_ I did away with what I sought was content."

"Way to minimize the importance of your comfort. Are the boxes at the ready? I do not want to be at the end of the master's temperament."

"Thanks, my comfort is prioritized." She leant against the kitchen sink. "It's very crucial that you put your needs ahead of others at times. Despite the orders given that we're bound to, you have to be happy with what you do. What good would it be if—"

"Oh quit your croaking you crazy bat. Is everything packed? I'll reiterate myself in case you haven't heard over your philosophical view of life, but I do not—"

"You _do not_ want to disrupt me. That is what you can worry about above all. I may take orders from you from _him_ but I will still whoop your ass in a heartbeat. You are a pathetic excuse of a henchman and you'll wish that is all you were when I am done with you. So…"

He gave an exaggerated gasp. True to him but melodramatic to her. "Well I never! The master wouldn't tolerate such disobedience shown to his partner!"

Jay snickered at his reaction and his choice of words. "The master isn't your partner if you keep up addressing him that way. Partners are equals, not the other way around." _This dumbass._ "And he is only temperamental towards you. The few times I did speak with him he was more than welcoming."

"Malarkey! He is the most renowned sorcerer of the land. He is feared by all, and that should include you."

"Eh, I mean…" _why am I even wasting breath with his pudgy ass?_ "Never mind. I got the boxes ready at the go. You can tell him to transport them to the other place. So where are the supplies for me to proceed with this bonfire?"

"… I just messaged him. He said that they should be gone now."

Jay hurriedly jogged up the stairs to the bedroom where the boxes sat, or where they did sat. "Yeah, they're gone. So where are the supplies?"

"Behind you."

She turns around in amusement thinking he was toying with her. Albeit she was able to see the last of the magic lingering in the air before her eyes roved over the supplies to continue and end her orders with.

"Cool, I got it from here." She voiced into the phone.

"Alright then…"

"Lawrence?"

"What?"

"Don't mistake me once for some foolish kid. I know exactly where you sleep, eat, and establish the rest of your day at. Talk to me like some insolent brat again, and I assure you that that pig face of yours will be on the diner's menu here as a barbecue special. The grills here are fascinating; especially with the lines they leave on food. Your face would be perfect for _trials_."

 _Click._

She frowned. That threat was rather soft than ones she was used to giving. Things like shoving things where the sun doesn't shine. Or pulling out intestines and using them as streamers for their deathbed party. On the other hand, she can envision shoving his greasy face down a scorching grill while his cheeks turn from brazen red to a flesh pink with skin deteriorating. Nah. It was a fine threat; there just wasn't any provocative language she would use.

Luminous light was lightly highlighting the dawning sky. Birds were already tweeting about the beginning of their days. For a moment she stood in front of the windowsill with hands behind her back appreciating the view the sky was painting for her eyes to captivate. Sunrises were her favorite. A whole pastry of colors would chalk onto the sky and only few were to witness it depending on their sleeping schedule. But she also noted that the sun would shine soon and so resumed her final order given.

Hands grabbed for the first gallon. After she was done with some doors and walls and rooms, she grabbed the second. Another after another—for there was seven—she splashed it all over the place. Last was the stairs and first floor hall where she would make her way out, the back of the house that is. The bag she was stuffing various items in a bit earlier she slung over her shoulder. Almost all doors to rooms she splashed the gasoline in were opened. Standing at the end of the hall, she slowly walked by each room tossing a lit match.

The scene was quite something.

An array of doors open with smoke billowing through behind her without a care to the world just flinging and flicking lit match after lit. Before then the corridor was a faint midnight blue heading to lighter shades. Now there was glowing every corner with smoke collecting like storm clouds at the top of the ceiling as fire alarms were shrilling and fires were roaring.

Now since the upstairs was done, the downstairs was rather easier. Jay had already splashed the liquid on numbers of furniture. Again, she flicked lit matches here and over there. But that was after she left the gas stove on. She wasn't worried of getting caught in it. Movements of hers were agile and quick but with such a nonchalant manner like she had done this in the past. The last match was just being made to set alight when her eyes caught onto something hanging next to the back door over a chair. It was the Savior's red piece of armor. Jay coolly swept it up with her other hand and easily lit the last match tossing it on the chair before walking off the property.


	9. Message

**This pertains to the story and will later on be revealed but I thought to let some of you have at it deciphering the message within the message. Especially for those who don't really got anything interesting going on at the moment. I want to be different from other authors slightly.  
** **Hint: double play is what you're looking for in each line. "U" in utmost is part of the message, I had trouble with that, sry.**

* * *

This

Μικροί και μεγάλοι ήταν οι underd0gs που caWe στο φως. Η πραγματικότητα φορούσε διακρίνονται σε εμάς από ό, τι οποιοδήποτε άλλο ον. Εμείς κρύβουν στις σκιές και να περιμένουμε να απειλήσουν τους άλλους που sn00d τη μύτη τους στις σάρκα και υλιστική πολύτιμους λίθους των κόσμων. Πλούτη, τίτλους, τα ναρκωτικά, πόρνες, όλα είναι vialinG και disgnsting όταν δεν valned. Εμείς μπορεί να μοιάσει με αποτυχίες και κατατάσσονται ως θραύσματα που του Ένας σκύλος αναζητά, αλλά είμαστε η πιο τρομακτική. Δεν πιστεύουμε σε λευκό ή μαύρο, g00d και κακό. Απολαμβάνουμε το graey όπου οι αμαρτίες μας είναι n0t υπόλογοι σε τέτοιο έλεγχο ούτε είναι ελεύθερα πραγματοποιηθεί δωρεάν από την απόφαση τι θα οδηγήσει μόνο στην τυραννία και την αναταραχή και cha0s. Αντ 'αυτού ευθυμία για τότε γιατί διαμορφώνουν το ποιοι είμαστε και τι είμαστε. Αν αυτό είναι φίλος ή κακή f0E είναι άσχετο, απλά ΕΙΝΑΙ. Και όταν είμαστε, είναι ότι στην Utm0st.

translated to this...

 **ʍɥɐʇ ʍǝ ɐɹǝ˙ Mɥǝʇɥǝɹ ʇɥɐʇ** ** _I_** **s ɟɹᴉǝup oɹ ᴉ** ** _l˥_** **ɟ0** ** _Ǝ_** **ᴉs ᴉɹɹƎlǝʌ∀uʇ' ʍǝ ɾnsʇ** ** _∀ɹƎ_** **˙ ∀up ʍɥǝ** ** _N_** **ʍǝ ɐɹǝ' ʍǝ qǝ ʇɥɐʇ** ** _ʇ_** **o ʇɥǝ Uʇɯ0sʇ˙  
** _ʍᴉ˥˥ oulʎ ɹǝsnlʇ ᴉu ʇʎɹɐuuʎ ɐup ʇnɹɯoᴉl ɐup ɔɥɐ0s˙ Iusʇǝɐp ʍǝ ɔHǝǝɹ ɟoɹ ʇɥǝu_ _ **qƎƆ**_ _ɐnsǝ ʇɥǝʎ sɥɐdǝ ʍHo ʍǝ ɐɹǝ ɐup  
_ **ƃɹɐʎ ʍɥǝɹǝ onɹ sᴉus ɐɹǝ u0ʇ ɥǝlp ɐƆƆonuʇɐqlǝ ʇo snɔɥ sɔɹnʇᴉuʎ uoɹ ɐɹǝ ʇɥǝʎ ɟɹƎƎlʎ ɥǝlp ɟɹǝǝ ɟɹoɯ ɾnpƃ** _ **W**_ **ǝuʇ ʍɥɐʇ**  
 _poƃ sǝǝʞs onʇ' qnʇ ʍǝ ɐɹǝ ʇɥǝ ɯosʇ ɟǝɐɹsoɯǝ˙ Mǝ po **u** 'ʇ qƎ˥ **I** ǝʌǝ ᴉu ʍɥᴉʇǝ oɹ qlɐɔʞ' ƃ00p ɐup qɐp˙ Mǝ ɹǝlᴉsɥ ᴉu ʇɥǝ  
_ **oɟ ᴉʇ ᴉs ʌᴉɐlᴉuפ** **ɐup pᴉsƃusʇᴉuƃ ʍɥǝu uoʇ ʌɐluǝp˙ Mǝ ɯɐ** ** _ʎ_** **looʞ lᴉʞǝ ɟ** ** _ɐ_** **ᴉln** ** _ɹ_** **ƎS ɐup ɐɹ** _ **ǝ**_ **ɹɐNʞǝp ɐs sƆɹɐd ʇɥ _ɐ_ ʇ oɟ  
** _oʇɥǝɹs ʇH∀┴ su00p ʇɥǝᴉɹ uosǝs ᴉu ʇɥǝ ɟlǝsɥ ɐup ɯɐʇǝɹᴉɐlᴉsʇᴉɔ ƃǝɯs oɟ ʇɥǝ ʍoɹlpS˙ ɹᴉɔɥǝs' ʇᴉʇlǝs' pɹ_ _ **n**_ _ƃs' ɥɐɹloʇs' ɐ˥_ _ **l**_ _  
_ **lᴉƃɥʇ˙** ** _ɹ_** **ǝɐlᴉʇʎ ᴉs Moɹǝ pᴉsʇᴉuƃ∩Isɥɐqlǝ ʇo ns ʇɥɐu ɐuʎ oʇɥǝɹ qǝᴉuƃ˙ Mǝ ɥᴉpǝ ᴉu ʇɥǝ sɥ∀poʍs ɐup ʍɐᴉʇ ʇo ɐssɐᴉl ʇɥǝ** _  
_ _ **ʎ**_ _onuƃ ɐup_ _ **O**_ _lp ʍǝɹǝ ʇɥǝ **n** upǝɹp0ƃs ʇɥɐʇ ɔɐMǝ ┴o __**ʇ**_ _ɥǝ_

* * *

 **Don't fret if u can't decipher what the secret message is, at least know what the paragraph entirely says. Somewhat enjoyed and tried at it, gr8, and comment if u kinda or do know what's the message if you want. And it's not (sort of) a challenge, though nobody be following the rules wholeheartedly so... don't 4get I posted chp 8 if u haven't read it yet.**


	10. Behind the Scenes

**_Da doom. Da doom._**

Desperation.

 _"Aahh!" "Aahh!" "Aaahhhhhhh!" Chairs were being flung._

 ** _Da doom. Da doom._**

Hopelessness.

" _What's the point?! What's the point?! I-I… don't even know." She was cradling into herself._

 ** _Da doom. Da doom._**

Despondency.

 _"Henry? Henry?! Henry! Henry! Please…."_

 ** _Da doom. Da doom._**

Forlornness? Maybe.

 _"Just do it! Do it! Don't be a fucking wuss!"_

Pain, just pain is all that's felt. Spindles delicately placed in hushed places only you know of. Places no one should have access to, regardless of relations to whomever. Spots nonexistent that causes you to collapse on your knees and repent. Repent, because this pain is not possible. Nobody knows of it. Nonexistent is where these places that have been tampered with is what causes our fear to surge. Causes your anguish to manifest. Panic to overwhelm in that blinding moment. Because pain… pain is all that is felt. And when that is the only feeling focused on, we lose ourselves.

* * *

"So how was our stuff salvaged again?"

"Uh… Rumple saw the fire at the house happening and simply thought of your stuff as well as mine and was, uh, able to neatly pack them away for us?"

Henry stopped inspecting what resides in one of the many boxes and looked at his mother. "That sounds more of a question than an answer. Are you sure this is legit?"

Emma couldn't help on how much he looked like Regina with the arched eyebrow and hair to help, shorter at that due from the hospital cutting it. But it was still pretty long. In no time it'd be back to its last length. "Uh, yeah, no. I-I mean, it's legit. I just find it weird that he saved some of our stuff. Mines at that."

"Yeah," he said turning his attention back to the box. "The imp is full of surprises."

They were at MM's place going through the stuff they had that were saved from the fire seeing if everything was there.

"Yeah…. You don't think it's weird he only saved our stuff and not Killian's? I mean… it's not is it?"

"Yeah, no Emma. It's _so_ not weird or odd or anything for the matter that his stuff wasn't saved. You know what's not weird? Him trying to damn us to the Underworld cos his feelings were hurt from becoming a Dark One. Nope. Not weird at all." All of that said while stifling through boxes.

"Excuse me?"

"He had a boo boo and needed a kiss from his stoic girlfriend. But said girlfriend was all like 'grr! I did it to save your life. Be grateful and let's have a happy ending, and oh! Why not "sacrifice" Zelena to consume the darkness. Totally base reasoning, yeah?'"

Surprise was written over the blonde's face from the comeback her son gave. He said the whole thing in a light-hearted manner as if it were a common joke to chuckle at.

She muttered her response, "No need for the smart ass retort."

"No need for dumbass questions." He gave off coolly.

Emma stopped her rummaging of the little she had and looked straight at her son. A pointed look was what it was, something signaling to step the fuck down.

Henry didn't notice the scolded glare beaming toward him while he fixated on his belongings in his box. When he did feel like silence was creeping is when he cautiously raised his own head leveling the stare Emma was giving off.

They both sat there with boxes shielding the other from their fury as they had a stare down. No one blinked. Breaths were lightly held. Postures were rigid to feign superiority. Classic rival behavior.

But they weren't rivals, the blonde thought. Both were family, mother and son, which meant the nukes had to be put down. So she took the punch and gradually stood up from the floor maintaining eye contact with her son. Slightly trembling hands reached for the box in front of them with the owner's eyes still fixed on its target and carefully raising the box. Henry remained on the couch as his eyes pierced Emma's but softened by the second. They remained this way until the blonde's back was toward him as she went through the contents of the box on the kitchen island. Space would provide both with a clear head.

Even though the stance of the Sheriff was rigid and authoritative-like as she shifted through the contents in the box, the mangled heart in her chest was feeling a bit elated from the familiar stuff going through her hands. Shirts, jeans, jumpers, some of her other jackets, her blanket— _thank God_ —were all here. She has yet to see her red leather jacket which was a little alarming. But she pushed the feeling down thinking she'll just go ask Rumple about it later on. What she hasn't seen yet, and that is causing her heart to palpitate by the minute, is the fashionable scarf she "borrowed" from the mansion that one night.

She looks over to the other boxes in search for the duffel that has her precious relic in it. So far, nothing. Everything she went through didn't showcase the highlighted bag. Asking Henry could be helpful… although does she really feel like getting a grunt or concerned look from the perceptible teen? Probably not, so she continues with her search.

He was trying, he really was. It sat in the recesses of his mind that it was probably too late to start over. Too late to build something between them again. How could so much stuff happen in a span of 48 hours? Who would do such a thing? Despite the horrific beating he endured and the fear that fueled him during that whole event, Henry couldn't help but conclude that it was bound to happen. To get jumped that is. He was the laughing stock of the school, perceived as a threat and then some. Being looked onto as someone who would snap any second and cause havoc.

But what Emma went through? That is what caused his face to blanch so often nowadays. Someone shot the Savior. Literally through the head! How… how… just why would that be done? Yes, Emma had her faults these days and was more than a bit difficult to like, but still…. His mother almost lost her life trying to go and find him. He could've been an orphan. For real this time. No father—hell no would he even fathom the thought as Killian to take that role—and no mothers. The Charmings were the only ones that would take him in, and even so, they'd be devastated to receive news of what could've happened to their then long lost estranged daughter. It could've broken Snow. Not that she wasn't already having a hard time processing the thought that his mother was shot and he himself was disgustingly beaten.

* * *

 **A fortnight ago...**

"Where are they?! Tell me now!"

"Sir, please calm down, you have to—"

"Tell me where my family is now! Where are Emma and Henry?! _Now_!"

"Deputy, please calm down. They are fine now. It took several hours to stabilize both but they are going to be just fine. Henry is already lucid enough to make conversation. Why don't you go check on him, ok?"

"And Emma?"

"She's in surgery. The shrapnel in her brain from the bullet are being extricated right as we speak. It won't be until a while until then she is able to communicate. Speaking off terms, she has had hell of a night. I know because I was in the room with Whale the whole time helping."

David looks down onto the shorter woman standing in front of him trying to steady himself. Nerves are all over the place after getting the news of what happened to his daughter and grandson.

"And where exactly is Whale if you don't mind?"

Lionel subtly winces from the mention of her boss. After his… breakdown? They had to go and place him in a separate room and coax him to get some sleep. It had to be sleep deprivation that caused him to become manic. Residents and nurses aren't immune to some indecent act at one point in their lives relating to their work. But what happened to Whale, witnessing the crack over his asshole demeanor was somewhat alarming.

"Whale… he had a bit of a rough night tending to the Savior. He's resting so rounds are managed properly when she's out of surgery." Truth was he was either sleeping, hopefully, or still laughing his head off like the goddamn Joker.

David released a resigned sigh and drooped his shoulders. Everything was out his power to handle. The one thing he could manage at the moment was to be there for his grandson.

"Ok… ok. Wh-where is Henry? What room?"

"In the ICU in uh…" she checked her chart, "room 5. Just be cautious of your movements. He seems to withdraw when you get too close."

"Ok, thanks." He then started toward to room where the teen resided.

* * *

The brass bell chattered as the door it was attached to gave a resounded thud. He turned the sign to that of Closed for the whole town to see if they bothered within the moment. Not long is what he needs to set some things in order. However, it is best if none are here to witness this in case things get… ugly for lack of term. His eyes advertently took in the smorgasbord of jewels and prizes the imp had collected over the centuries. An arm reached out to a pair of eerie looking dolls that practically sat center stage of the whole pawn shop. Ears listened strategically for any sound of the owner and came with success. The magician gathered his composure to sell the façade. It wasn't that he's not feared among many; it was that in certain eyes he didn't want to give off that stature. Henry for example, he was his prodigy. There was no way he was going to scare the boy from the nay things said about him from others. Granted, said others weren't occupying in this town—to his knowledge—but still, he didn't ask for this.

"Ah, yes. How can I help…" Rumple's words trailed to nothing as he caught a glimpse of the man standing before him in his shop.

The man turned his back around picking his cane up and holding it behind himself. "Help with what sir? Many things are to be helped with and sadly they all can't be attended to. So what is there you want to help with, that is if you're competent enough for it?"

For the life of Rumple he couldn't go through faster of all the interactions he has ever encountered with anyone to think who this man was. He seemed familiar but yet wasn't. Foreign territory is what this man was. And as all knows, the Dark One does not like being left in the dark (pun intended). He re-composed himself rather quickly.

"How can I assist you today…?"

Rumple thought he was going to get a name, how cute, the man thought. "No need for pleasantries, Dark One but-"

"Rumple. Or Rumpelstiltskin, please." His patience was becoming thin.

"Sure. I'm here to regard with a transaction."

"And what may that be? As you can see there are plenty of magical items that dwell here. Or if you are searching for something rather simple and of this world, then I can still assist."

"No need for anything that resides in this fickle place… Rumple. What I am in need of is an alibi."

"Oh." He cocked his head to the side to feign interest, when in actuality he was. "And what crime have you committed for me to be your go-to person?"

The magician let his fingers caress the glass display as he walked, "And let the fire set ablaze to those of the wicked that committed the sinful acts treacherous against the eyes of their superior."

"Poetic," Rumple deadpanned.

"Anything but." He replied. "Although, you are the perfect candidate to partake in this task, I so graciously need your help with."

"Sorry, dearie. I think you have the wrong sorcerer. Unless you have something of value that piques my interest in the slightest, I'mma need you to leave." He remarked with the last of his words of a face scrunch.

Rumple was just making way to the door to show the man out when words that are threatening were heard. "How's Belle doing?"

Of course from natural instinct he swiftly turned around to confront the man, but what he came up with was baffling.

The magician walked to the back of the shop where _no one_ was allowed to enter and sat at the round table throwing his feet up, and cane across his lap.

"Sit my dear crocodile," he gestured with his hand to a chair, "and let me tell you of why you will do as I say without anything in return."

"Unless you want to be on the bottom of my shoe being scraped off on the pavement, I advise you to leave this instant."

"I think-"

"I think this is the farthest I ever tolerated somebody making empty threats to my sweet Belle. This must be proof that I am a changed man, because believe me you would've been the carcass on my heel right now."

 ** _*Snap*_**

In that flashing moment a chair complains its disturbance as it screeches away from the other side of the room and breaks the Dark One's knees forcing the imbecile to take a seat.

Confusion, astonishment, and was that fear? were all expressions showing away on the imp's face. Never in his life, as far as we know, being the most feared sorcerer in the Enchanted Forest has someone or something so ordinary belittled Rumpelstiltskin.

He felt humiliated, embarrassed like the coward he still is, enraged that this stranger just basically told and forced him to take a seat and shut up-

"Please keep quiet now."

Oh.

There's that speck of fear.

The man was at a loss of words to drill at his enemy. Yeah, they're enemies now from what just came to pass. At least Rumple is aware.

 _Who is this man? How does he have magic? Wouldn't I have been able to feel his energy?_ All were plausible questions running through the imp's mind.

"First, let me apologize for having to come to the point where I had to use magic on you. Yes, yes you are the Dark One and no one should even have the audacity to compel you to abide to their caprice. But," he perked, "I am not just anyone, though unimportant at that so…

"Second, again my apologies for showing disrespectful behavior towards your furniture," he said, but did not take his feet down from the table. "It seems being in a certain comrade's presence for little time has caused much influence over me."

Rumple kept trying to rise from his rooted spot and was failing. Someone or something was pushing him, literally, down. Each urge to stand caused force to be exerted onto him, and it was dark too. But… a different darkness at that. His power was dark and evil, but this one was dark and… lively?

"Seeing that you have me cemented in place, you can quit your yapping and get straight to the point while I think of numerous—and lovely at that—ways for your death to happen at my fingertips… or cane." Rumple rebuked.

The lean man eyed the constricted sorcerer's cane and made a reach for it coming to success. The other man just looked subtly warily at what the dark skin man was doing. Both canes were being analyzed appreciatively, more of Rumple's than the man's own.

"It's a very nice cane, although there aren't any secret compartments in it. Why is that?"

Rumple easily replied, "Don't feel the need to have any."

"Oh," was all that was remarked.

This man was very perplexing to Rumple. He seemed intimidating; however it was a weird intimidation. Respect, superior, earnest exuded from the man before him. Although what was slightly, and quite evident was an attitude of cool, casual, unconcerned. Here sitting in front of Rumple in an exquisite tailored suit with ' _Is that Armani? Hugo Boss?_ ' a dashing scarf accompanying the suit was a man that seemed feared and enlightened.

"Say, that father of yours," Rumple visibly flinched from the mention of Pan. "He was a coward, right? Never wanting to grow up and explore the wonderful possibilities of becoming an adult? The corruption, heartbreak, adultery/infidelity, the addictions, the responsibilities to play your part, and so forth? He wanted to stay in that trance of being pure and free from all the fun we get to display."

"What are you getting at?"

"So all of those traits that came to his demise are still pumping away in…" he twirled his finger to Rumple, "you."

Eyes burn with fury and his jaw clenches from just the aspect that he could be anything like his father. Of course given this thought he said those infamous 6 words, "I am nothing like my father."

"Famous words aren't they? I bet Baelfire recited the same thing for his—"

"Don't you dare speak of Bae that way! I should've killed you when I had th—"

The magician smirked from his recent act of magic. "What's wrong? Imp's got your tongue." No doubt there was the Dark One's tongue resting on his own lap occasionally squirming.

Rumple's eyes bugged from his head with his mouth trying to form words. Only sound that was coming out was weird animal sounds, so he easily snapped his mouth shut. What was going on? Again he is made to look like the fool, the Dark One, he Rumpelstiltskin was trapped in his own shop by this… this… this intruder. No other name befitted this man here.

"As I was saying… Baelfire, yes! At least he turned out different, and good at that, better than you. And then that boy Henry…" he slowed from saying the boy's name. He had just seen him not long ago but was feeling a bit withdrawn from him. So he pulled out his phone and ignorantly swiped away the other pics on there to the one of an unconscious blood freed mask of Henry. Eerie but true it was a slight smile crossed his features.

Eyebrows rose inquiringly on Rumple's head. Not just from the entirety of the situation he was in but how this man across from him easily, and rather impolitely, stopped in mid-conversation just to see something no doubt of importance on his phone. He cleared his throat to gain the lank man's attention once more. Over his head it went that this man was interested about Henry.

"Right, excuse me. To get to the point: you're going to without hesitation "offer" up your services to a family in dire need to recollect their precious belongings. I would do so myself, but I want my magic to be undetected."

A snide remark had to be squeezed in for him to feel like he has some leverage but that was impossible. Instead Rumple just used all his might to lunge at the fellow in front of him envisioning to slit the man's throat.

"Hm." Feet left the table swiftly and in one quick move in a blink of an eye there was the scene of the imp's cane against his throat pushing invasively from the holder. The tip of it just drilling on Rumple's larynx as he struggled to take a regular breath. The anonymous man himself slouching over the chair and smirking at the literal mute. From the estimate of flashbacks that showed to Rumple before his Dark One days, it was too much to count and too much to dwell on. He wasn't that man anymore, nor did he ever want to be again.

Seconds ticked by longer than necessary with both powerful figures just sitting in the quiet room leveling off the other's stares. The magician teasingly lessening his force on the Dark One's throat only to push it further than prior. And then there was the imp harshly breathing out his nose from the absurdity of this predicament he was in—absurd because he was the Dark One for god's sake!

The captor spoke soothingly, but still in a menacing tone, "Listen here Rumpelstiltskin: I am going to send you a simple listing of basic instructions you will adhere to. You will not mention that I was ever here or even existed as far as you know. If you don't go along with what is written on the piece of paper, I will basically skin your precious Belle…" he leaned in and whispered, "in front of you. Then I will have you in an eternity of pain and torture."

Dull eyes widened from the horrific thing that could be done to Belle if he wasn't to comply with these forced orders. Would this man really do that? Staying on this thought any longer was a waste honestly, Rumple knew himself pretty well and was more than aware of some hush hush things he had done over the course of centuries.

"Let me give you a little glimpse of what your future beholds if you were to fail from this easy task." He waved his hand and instantly tears prickled the corners of the Dark One's eyes with his face becoming redder by the second.

Images and scenes of his love's death with pain and torture she was enduring flashed by and by across Rumple's eyes of the infinite possibilities. Too many possibilities that is. Some even seemed crueler than things he had done.

The bastard continued. "I am actually a fan of those asylum takes. You know? Where the person in captive goes insane from his own mind when really there could be outer influences causing your madness to increase. I mean," he stood, pushing slightly on the cane against Rumple's throat. "Everyone is a little mad, it makes our faults more interesting… more-more _endearing_. That is of course it's not something taboo." He chuckled. "Just think of the Dark One going manic. Not that you aren't, but just more. Unhinged to the point where you're broken and you want to _kill yourself_." Those last words remarked with a sharper pain going at Rumple's throat. He basically wasn't breathing now.

"So my dear crocodile… do what's instructed on the paper then you with that precious lass of yours can continue your dysfunctional relationship."

How… how did he do that? He just sounded like Hook. The voice he has been hearing for their given time was altered to the disgrace of that pirate!

"Aaa… aaa…"

"Oh, that's right."

His tongue was back in his mouth, Rumple's that is. "I will kill you when I get the chance _Hook!_ "

"Huh, seems I did tick you off. Just wanted to see if I got the reaction I was going for and looks like I came with success."

The Dark One's eyes dissipated the rage they were filled with for a beat with that of confusion.

"Have a wonderful night Rumple," he dropped the other sorcerer's cane and started for the main entrance.

This time Rumple came with succession standing from the chair. How long ago could he have done that? "Hold on dearie!" He held his throat from the throbbing pain and patchiness of it. "I may be under your thumb for this one and _only_ time, but I want a name!"

"Master or sire will do." His own cane skittered across the floor, almost causing Rumple to fall, and levitated into the magician's nimble hand.

* * *

 **Present**

"Hand it to me!"

"Emma, it's just a box!"

"Henry, just hand me the damn box!"

Both Swan and Mills were tugging at a box that Henry was looking at a few moments before when he voiced that he found something interesting. Emma had no clue except that it could be the scarf she desperately needed… and wanted.

While Henry was fighting with his mom over a barely important box he couldn't help think what was so important in it for Emma to be fretting over. So he let go of the box unexpectedly to Emma's surprise. This only caused Emma to trip backwards and hit her head on a wall.

"Emma!" Henry cried.

The blonde slumped on the floor from the painful intrusion pounding at her skull while simultaneously trying to tend to the contents of the box. She didn't even pay Henry any mind while her hand frisked the inside of the box.

"Emma are you ok? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen." The teen quickly rushed out his mouth. Emma just got out of the hospital from a gunshot wound straight to the head; there wasn't any need to worsen the wound. As much as he distances himself from her, he really still needed her. And he didn't want to cause any more pain to her.

"Huh? Ugh! Where the hell is it?!" She threw the box aside and stood abruptly up wobbling on her legs for a second.

Henry made a grab for his mother's arm to help steady her. "Take it easy, you shouldn't even be doing this much moving around."

"I'm fine, Henry." She patted his arm smiling slightly at him. The act of care didn't go unnoticed by her. Her throat was choking a little from the love he just shown her, little at that, but she'll take it. "I just can't find something that means much to me…"

"Well, erm… what is it? Maybe… maybe I could help?"

She looked at him longer than necessary trying to decide was it wise to tell him that she was in search for one of his mother's scarves. Of course she wouldn't blatantly say that, but still hinting to it could be… ill.

"Just… just keep an eye out for my duffel from," she looked away from him, "that um, that-that one night."

"Ok, yeah? Sure."

She lightly touched his arm for a sec then went over to some other belongings to the both still searching for the duffel. An exhausted sigh escaped from her lips, this was going to be difficult to avoid without suspicion.

* * *

 **A fortnight ago...**

"No offense grandpa… but where's Emma?"

David's eyes went alarmed for a moment from the unpredicted question blatantly asked. He just entered the room not even getting an overall analysis of the state of his grandson before being asked why he is here. That threw him off some… and hurt a bit.

He regained himself before looking anymore a fool. "Your mother… uh, um your mother…"

Henry squint his eyes at his grandfather, tolerable one at that. He just needed Emma to witness what he looked like after the jump for her to feel horrible. If she can see that it was her fault, cos it was, then he can gain satisfaction and maybe make her realize her unhealthy relationship with the pirate. At first he was just saying that because he didn't approve, but being older than then, and perceptive in more ways than one, with also intellectual concept rising more from maturity, outer influences, and the "intriguing" life of school, Henry was able to easily conclude that this was definitely not a stable relationship Emma was is in.

She drank, there were bags under her eyes constantly from late nights and sporadic shifts at work, there were bags under her eyes constantly from implementing late nights and sporadic shits at work to avoid Killian, fatigue, dazed even when alcohol wasn't consumed, and a whole number of other things were what she was with him.

And every time he did try to bring it up on her state or how her and Killian were doing,—" _I'm just looking out for you," "Even though we have our differences?" "Well duh, you're still my mother…_ "—she would just shut it down.

"So, um…"

"Hmm? What? Uh… can you repeat that again, must've—"

"She got shot Henry. It… the bullet went straight, um," he scratched his forehead not believing the words coming out his mouth, "straight through her head. Through the skull that is. She was found with you in the… the warehouse I believe." He had to take a seat, his head was becoming weary.

"W… But how-, Serio-, I-" he put out his hands slightly like the words would appear to his grasp. "I, uh… um…" he gulped. No words.

* * *

He couldn't even comprehend the thought, let alone bring about the words of what he was feeling. He was just made to look like a fool! The fool of his past self, the ghost he would never try to endure to be once more. The coward that he is- no, _was!_

 _Was! Was! Was!_ _ **Was!**_

The haunting memory of what he was has now pushed to the front of his mind. Something that he would now have to reflect upon. Mirrors reflecting the ugliness of his nature that he had made peace with will now taunt him for being the insipid weak imbecile that wasn't able to protect himself with his Dark One powers.

Rumpelstiltskin was beyond pissed.

He was so full of anger that he was unaware of glass pieces flying by him of different sizes. The shrapnel of clarity whizzing by him with transparent color catching kaleidoscope glimpses of his tantrum. Sound was impenetrable to his ears but that of his barbaric screaming. His cane was in his hand as he let it hit any object of his desire forcing all his energy into it. Precious relics collected over generations were being mauled by the owner himself by his fury. He was so blinded by his rage that when the lights went off he must have jumped feet in the air from the unanticipated darkness.

Immediately following was a spark of green fire blooming favorably on one of his display cases, which being the only light offering some kind of assistance in the pawn shop.

Rumple stoned his face and headed to the green plumes of smoke heading in the air and saw what it was. It was the note that the magician said would come his way. Each task step-by-step (as if he was dumb) written in golden ink glowing against the black paper. _Huh?_ Even the imp could appreciate fine stationery given the oddest circumstances.

 _To My Dearest Imp,_

 _I have had a wonderful time chatting with you as civil as possible. My friends enjoyed holding you down as well, they could taste the darkness that resides heavily in you and couldn't control themselves, but still managed. Any who, here are the simplest of directions you'll abide with if you don't want unfortunate events to come about:_

1) _Sometime in the night peeking to dawn I will give you an address to head over to._

2) _Have gallons of gasoline at the ready._

3) _Make sure there are a few witnesses to see you._

That's it? Well what rubbish, Rumple thought. He craned his neck a bit straining to see that last of what's written down. The text was illuminating faintly and so he had to create a fireball to get better lighting.

 _It's written upside down backwards._

He noted quickly that this was a different language and that it was-

"Rumple!"

He started from Belle's entrance. With a snap the paper was nowhere to be in sight.

"Belle, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Rumple it's horrible." Tears were wet on poor Belle's face. "Emma got shot and it's not known if she'll make it. And Henry… he's knocked out cold. His face… it-it's matted and bruised, and… just…"

"Henry?"

The sweet woman eagerly nodded her head in agreement. "Yes. He… he must've been ambushed. He looks horrid Rumple!" She covered her face from the continuous tears running away from her eyes.

Rumple went around comforting her but faltered as Belle took a step back.

"It's ok," she sniffed. "I thought you should know since he's your grandson."

"Of course, of course." A hand reached out to grasp hers, and she let him.

"Thank you very much Belle, really." He bought their intertwined hands up and kissed it showing his sincerity in his words.

"You should go see him…. I know he doesn't want—"

"No, no. Of course, without doubt. He's still my grandson… Baelfire's son."

She smiled wistfully at the man in front of her. They weren't together at the moment due to another quarrel that they couldn't settle. But they both still shared their love for one another. A break, it was just a break.

"I uh… I can watch the shop while you tend to him…. that is if you want." She stumbled over her words.

He sighed. "As much as I trust this shop in your hands… it's rather dangerous to be alone given that it isn't known who shot the sheriff or ambushed Henry… right?"

"Oh, no! It isn't known. Snow and David took a trip up north to calm Snow some from it being the anniversary of Regina's death."

If it wasn't for the darkness encompassing both their faces in the shop, it would've easily been seen the pain that showed on Rumple's face from the mention of his greatest student's, and some other form of weird relationship they had that worked for them, death's being mentioned. No one would know, but staying on the thought of Regina panged his heart. So like always, he pushed the thought away, fully.

"And what of the other deputies?"

"Ruby's already here seeing about the incident. Leroy was found at the Rabbit Hole a bit drunk since it was his day off. And I think Tink was camping with some Lost boys adamant on electronics being bought."

Rumple was already filing through his brain what threat could preside in the sleepy town other than him that wanted to off the sheriff. He lightly squeezed him and Belle's entwined hands already thinking what that slimy toad that came earlier was cooking up.

"And where's the baby?"

"Granny is watching her."

"Ok… I would tell you to go back to our place but I somewhat trust Ms. Lucas to keep you safe. I'll put a protection spell around the diner and you just stay there until it's safe, ok?"

"And you'll stay safe?"

"Of course, my dear. Always."

* * *

 **Present**

"You know he healed you up some."

"Huh? What?"

"Your grandfather…" Emma glanced behind her towards Henry's general direction. She was now looking in the oddest places for the damn scarf. That and keeping an eye out for her jacket in case it was here.

The teen stopped what he was doing and looked over to Emma who was halfway under the sink with just her behind showing. "Really? When?"

"Dunno," some things being messed with can be heard. "But I do know th- OW!" She hit her head coming up and out.

She rubbed her head gingerly rising from her position. "He did it sometime when we both were unconscious... or asleep."

"Oh"

"Yeah… you should really show your thanks to him."

"But-"

"No buts. Yeah he was a dick for not showing to your mother's funeral and not helping in anyway or saying anything of her departure, but he's still your grandfather. Blood is thicker than water, right?"

"I guess…"

"Good!" She now was opening cupboards. "You have time though, since we're "supposed" to be resting." She closed the last cabinet.

"Hungry?" he questioned.

"Uh… yeah," _where the_ ** _fuck_** _is that scarf?_

* * *

 **A fortnight ago...**

"Hello, Rumple"

"You again?!"

"Whoa, hold on there!" Charming said putting up his hands.

The Dark One let a hand wipe over his eyes. It's been a pretty working night.

"My apologies Mr. Nolan. It seems my eyes are playing tricks on me."

"You and me both." David took a seat.

"How's he doing?"

"I wanna say fine, but what's the tiniest of "fine" in this whole… complex situation?"

Rumple let David's words sit in the air a few beats longer as he took a seat beside his grandson on the bed inspecting every bruise and cut over his body. His eyes lingering on his face longer, seeing the resemblance of Neal in him. Seeing that and Emma Swan, but overall, Regina.

"Nothing is… David."

 _Did he just call me David?_

"Don't make a big deal out of it Mr. Nolan, I can tell from the look of your face."

That easily snapped Charming's mouth shut.

"Listen… I'm going to go see what's up about Emma. Do you want anything from the cafeteria or anything?"

"No, just privacy with my grandson please."

David stood there a moment longer crossing his arms looking at Henry and Rumple. It wasn't that he thought that Rumpelstiltskin had some nefarious deed boiling up; it was the scene of both in the room. Both grandads worrying over their grandson without bickering or childish behavior. That's something David locked away in his head to think of later about the good times, even in the worst.

Rumple brought out his hand starting to let it glow and whisper apologies to Henry how he wasn't the best grandfather and that he should have been there in the boy's darkest. To help him overcome grief and to be a better role model and other meaningful stuff were being muttered in the artificial hospital room. The last of what he said was to respect the boy's distance if that was what he pleased, but that he would always be there if he needed him. Always.

* * *

Rumple was slowly taking his time walking with his cane to the destination that he was required to be at. What he recognized swiftly was that this was the Swan-Jones' street. His nose scrunched at the thought that his deceased wife's ex-husband would've-been-stepfather to her and Rumple's deceased son then to marry said deceased son's ex-girlfriend, mother of his grandson, almost daughter-in-law to Rumple was somehow swayed to take basically her almost stepfather-in-law of a rodent's last name. Even to the point where it is actually Jones-Swan, but for Rumple's sanity was just Swan to give a fuck off to the pirate. And for the benefit for Henry, just for the relations to his birth mother, even though he kept his last name. Insistently too after Killian's prudence.

He was ready to retire from the night and early day.

Addresses showed house by house as he scavenged for the place written on the paper. It seemed familiar but then wasn't. When he did look up to see the house in front of him was when he realized it was the one next over and of all was the Savior's.

"How lovely"

Well, the boy was ok and his mother as far as Rumple heard. The pirate wasn't in the house too… maybe. But who's watching? Oh, yeah…

He started dialing the numbers on his phone already catching the whiff scent of smoke from the gasoline he transported in the house minutes before. The boxes were gone, but he still needed his star witness like instructed.

"You have one minute to get here at the Swan's street residency or I'll burn that coven of yours to—"

"Clip the threats, will you Dark One."

Rumple raised a trademark eyebrow at Mother Superior… and her posse. "Backup I see."

"Critical when you are on the Dark One's beck and order."

"Mm."

"What is it you want Rumpelstiltskin? Do you want a dual in the front of the Savior's house, so she can intervene and save you?"

"And what makes you think that she would do so… save me that is?"

Blue gave Rumple a you're-shitting-me look. "She is the mother of your grandson, is she not? Or are you here to spread the word that she whored herself to someone other than Neal?"

"Careful there dearie," he started slowly to the supreme fairy with his cane hitting the pavement of the street stricter than necessary. "I wouldn't start throwing slander around of the Savior after her incident. Or the mentions that my grandson isn't who he is."

Blue first frowned of the mention of the Savior. What has happened to her? Though, that was immediately followed with a smirk on her young features (though if thought about, is probably old) of the understatement of Henry. "No one is who they are in this town… not even our kin."

They were now facing one another like a dual was going to happen. Good vs. Evil. But nothing is that clear when there is only the fog. Sometimes it will clear and let the sun shine through. Everything is beautiful and full of life. Then sometimes the fog would condense causing there to be clouds rolling forward having even the righteous of them all cowering on their knees succumbing to the ill things that'll plague their minds for life to come.

Not yet are we thick in the fog, not yet.

"I need you to stay put and see here the boxes that will appear out our feet in the middle of this street. You are to account that each box is present and speak for if the question ever arises who was here when I did this. Then, and only then, will we both be in agreement that it was from the goodness in me that I took action."

Blue averted her head slightly to snort at the "goodness" in Rumple. "And just what makes that flagitious of a brain of yours think that I or my comrades would listen to what you say?"

The Dark One leaned back from the shared space between them and smirked. Everything that could be said was pushed aside with one of the blackest words in history. "Genocide."

And just like what is expected for the word to invoke in others shows away on Blue's face. Mass killing was nothing to play with. Shame filled her. "Bring them out… the boxes that is." She bowed her head slightly thinking of some things.

The provident man wasted no time in transporting the boxes to their feet. There were no more than a dozen boxes ranging in sizes. A clipboard appeared in all the fairies hands as they recorded each box sharpied with its belongings. Unaware was it that smoke was airing out of the top floor windows of the Savior's home.

"What's with all the others and the clipboards?"

"One of the mesmerizing and tumultuous things in this world like magic from ours is paperwork. It must be recorded at all costs."

Rumple actually smiled slightly. Indeed paperwork was a hassle here. From his experience with deals, especially in this land, they were no game.

"Done!" One of the fairies called out with a few following. Now there were backups for the backups in case anything goes… who knows anymore? An asteroid could specifically hit the church for all they know.

"Well it was nice doing business with you." The boxes then disappeared to Snow's apartment.

"Fun as usual," voiced Blue. Both just standing in the middle of the street (the other fairies leaving from the presence of the Dark One) staring at the dancing flames as the house, not long ago built, reveled in the flames changing its color from a cozy blue to scorching black as if it were expressing its true colors. Blue heard it, but Rumple saw it, of a young lady donning a bit of a baggy coat making way with the Savior's leather jacket hanging from her hands with… earbuds? starting to be put in her ears. What startled him was the girl glancing over her shoulder at him waving her hand with a warm smile on, then disappearing into the woods.

* * *

 **Present**

"I still can't believe that the house caught on fire… are you going to miss it?" Henry looked up from one of his gaming consoles. They always seemed to help his tweaking nerves. Especially if he thinks as all the enemies as Killian or other people that could use a good M-16 through their chest…and skull…and YES! "Right in the nuts," he mutters.

Emma wipes her face from the tears threatening to spill now since she looked everywhere for that scarf. And she meant it… all over through every nook and cranny she could think of and make her son think of too was rivaling the emptiness that was looming in her. Becoming more vacant by the day.

He didn't know that she was silently and discreetly trying to keep an aching sob back and so had to let his question hang in the air momentarily. But he didn't notice since they were taking a break from looking for the second most important thing that came way in Emma's life. Maybe third if she puts Regina in second instead, but from her encounter with her there seemed like there was nothing the Queen wanted to do with her. From waking up dazed and confused in the hospital so often and only having the ounce of privacy being asleep, Emma had no chance yet to mourn for her friend/love's death once more. She needed the scarf to keep her glued together.

What she needed was Regina.

Again. Again the salty and wet liquids were stinging her eyes. She needs a distraction. "Hey… mind if I join you?"

The old Henry would've immediately said yes. But this one, the one he was now, had to think it over. Of course he wanted to start doing right by Emma, but some things were left for the better, like his own time with video games. But… she got shot because of him, so… "Sure. Here," he handed her a remote console and opened a new profile that they will share for now on.

For a different reason Emma's heart started to sting with that of love. What she was witnessing was her son naming the new prolife of the future saved game 'Operation Swan and Mills'. "It's so we can start mending our relationship… and it can start with both of us expressing our feelings on killing the enemy." He gave her a cheesy smile briefly then turned his head.

Emma's heart definitely caught in her throat now. This one little act has made her feel so raw and emotional that she could not hold back the burning sob that escaped.

"Are you okay," all attention was on her now.

She raised a hand for him not to worry, "Yeah… yeah I'm ok. Just… thank you."

Something panged in his chest and what was frightening was that it wasn't loathing, he couldn't identify what it was because he didn't want to come to that yet… the feelings, but he was aware of the new leaf turning over. Now the challenge was to keep that leaf upright and not reverting to its old ways.

"Um… you're welcome." He looked away with his hair curtaining the side of his face. He truly looked like Regina in that moment which only caused heavier sinking thuds to pound at Emma. She instead took the console and began with the game already aware that the emotions were becoming a bit much for the two.

* * *

 **Then**

 _What is this?_ Rumple thought as he looked at the secret message from earlier now, back in his shop. He was able to translate it from the Greek it was written in it. And the message it said. But what got him was another message hidden within the message.

He reread the message in whole just becoming the more frustrated at what it meant. [ _Maybe you want to add the message here or just fuck with the readers, idk_ ]. It wasn't a hard message to decipher, but every attempt at trying to break it down had his head starting to swindle. As astute the Dark One is, it did not occur to him that this was bound to happen if he kept trying to figure it out. He pushed the ill feeling away as though not having any rest. Not long ago he was able to sleep, but he found a way around that with the most getting four hours and he was more than grateful to know what the sensation was like to dream again. No one except Belle knew of it so nothing tragic can happen during these hours of bliss.

So like said, he pushed the daze away of not being able to rest and not know what was in this message. He was almost done, he could get through it.

Eyes rebelled against the owner's wishes of keeping them still and open. They just kept drooping and getting blurrier than the last. Each time causing a hand to be wiped at them. Each movement becoming sluggish and groggy.

He muttered the beginning but aloud the rest, "… aren't you?"

"Ah!" knees fell to the floor as Rumple grasped his sides.

 **Currently**

"Wow!" a kid pointed out, "those are really cool shoes you have."

"Thanks"

"Where'd'ya get them?" still pointing to the kicks.

"Mm. Depends."

"What do ya mean?"

A smile was flashed at the little boy for his inquiry behavior. Children, always wanting to know everything.

"I stole them…" was heard in a light but still clear whisper.

"Cool! Where?"

"Not where, but from who. I simply choked the person who had them and demanded that they give me it or that they'll face perish right where they stand."

The young lad's eyes widened from the act just stated. He took a step back from the stranger and was ready to call out for his parent.

"You wanna know a secret?" They whispered while pointing their finger to the other to come a little closer.

He couldn't refuse. Either refuse and run away… or hear a secret that this person was willing to let up. Illogical, yes. But that's for him to find out.

 **Then**

 _What is that?!_ Immediately questioned Rumpelstiltskin.

A rolling and thundering condensed cloud of nothing but black, ranging from shades of oil to midnight to obsidian and much more, hovered in front of the imp with what could be heard as breathes emitting from it. A faint humming sound if you may. It was a sight. As if a thick cloud of fog holding its breath, while seeing the insides of it with other charging clouds clashing against each other, impacting. The remaining force exerting itself to the front of the cloud like a glass case keeping everything confined; resisting to it from being unleashed. Yellow, white, purple, and blue light were cracking within it each causing a clap of thunder to scream.

This was truly amazing and terrifying. Nothing like this has ever unveiled in Rumple's life. The only thing separating the two was the glass display case with many of his possessions in front of him and the darkness that lurked. He didn't know what to do. If the storm cloud had eyes, milky white eyes of a ghost, then indeed Rumple would hold his breath stricter than necessary. It's not that he wasn't… but the dark nimbus cloud was staying suspended without making a move than the clapping of thunder happening and the different shades of darkness raging against one another.

What is going to happen?

 **Currently**

"So, yeah?" The stranger looked earnestly to the small boy while waiting patiently for a response.

"Uhm… uh… mo-mommy?" he fiddled with his fingers scared at what the pretty Miss had just told him.

"Don't do that. Don't call on someone that you rely heavily on only then for them to throw you out later in your wasted of a life."

"But-but…" the young boy's eyes were becoming glossy now, showing the clarity of his soft brown irises. It did somewhat tug at the Miss's heartstrings.

"Learn how to rely on yourself and you won't have to worry. Won't have to worry about what I said. Won't have to worry about the questioning things life will throw at you to comply with."

"Mom! Mom! Help!" The little boy ran from the stranger looking for said parent. That didn't affect the Miss though, she just continued on her way.

 **~Cfys~**

"There she…"

'"What is it? Where did she go, honey?"

"She was-she was just here." The young boy said helplessly as his eyes scanned across the perimeter for the stranger he was speaking to. But was she really here?

* * *

 **Then**

A glittering look, like sparking confetti was making out of Rumple's mouth as he kneeled over and retched like his life depended on it.

What happened minutes before was the same stalemate between the two entities of darkness facing the other. The Dark One felt that he had enough of this foolishness. It was a cloud for god's sake! Why does he need to be afraid of a cloud? So he abruptly stood up locking his jaw and showing his stained teeth a bit, hissing at the next to come.

"I don't know what you or this is, but I want you out of my shop from the count of five or I promise… I will obliterate you."

Nothing happened then as the dark nimbus still stayed rooted in the air with flashing colors of lightning still striking. Rumple's not going to lie… this was eerie.

"One…"

Claps of thunder rolled.

"Two…"

Flashes of lightning were illuminating his face. Following with more disruptive thunder, he smirked.

"Three"

He reached out a hand starting the act already to rid of this thing when unexpectedly the thick painted cloud rolls towards to Rumple and enters his airways through his mouth and nose and other openings of his body.

The sensation of the storm could in him was horrid. The feeling was wet and cold and shivering as everything was licking him; his organs and all, it all felt dank. Sweeps of icy wisps like strokes of a paintbrush painted away in Rumple's body like it was a canvas. There were no other words to describe it. It just… it just felt really disgusting on what was going on inside him. Like a dog's slobbery tongue licking and kissing you. He barely could control the paroxysms of shivering trekking along inside of him and causing goosebumps to rise outside. Teeth were beginning to chatter lightly against the will of keeping them still and grounded. He curled into himself just pleading in his head for it to pass as quickly as it came.

And that's what happened then. What followed was a feeling of slosh hitting away inside him that made him nauseated to the touch. He managed to rise slightly to all fours looking defeated. Only then to follow was continuous sounds of retching coming from behind the display case. At first there was nothing to show for it but more strenuous pain riveting away in the Dark One's body. The last heave was making him weaker than before.

It all changed when something did come to show for it. Each gag resulted in little amounts of the storm cloud, which literally did plunge into him, coming out. This time without the lightning, but glittering floating pieces within it, as if he was upchucking the galaxy with the infinite stars and blackness that looms. The act was disgusting no doubt, very foul, but it was quite a scene with something very intriguing coming out in a way. However, it did come to an end for the imp who had sweat doused on his face and hair appearing tawny with some loose frays sticking to his face only then for him to helplessly pass out on his floor.

* * *

 **Currently**

Boy was she tired. After coming to success from her little mission and having to report back to him, there was only so bit of rest she could divulge in without becoming bored or having other important things of the matter.

She yawned without covering her mouth coming up the stairs after entering the building. There weren't many floors, but an elevator could be of use here. The thought that she would be probably coming over here for a while made her feel something of giddiness.

Someone was coming down the stairs, she moves to the side to be out of his way.

"Yeah, I'm on my way. No I don't have th- **_oomph_** "

" ** _Oomph_** " Somehow they both bump against each other.

"Hey watch it, won't ya? You wouldn't like it if I disrupted your call would you?" Arrogance was obviously this man's specialty.

"Um… You bumped into me. I literally just moved out the way for you. So how could I have just bumped into you?"

"No, you were just standing in the middle of the stairs not even letting me through. If anything it's your fault. But don't worry Miss, it's evident that teacup head of yours was filled with other important things."

She was going to keep her cool. No need to act up here of all places. "Listen man, sorry… ok? Sure, whatever, I got in your way. Now can you please move out of mine?" She grabbed the handles of her backpack ready to continue on with the day.

"Um, no. What you can do since I'm at a height advantage (he was towering one step above her) is bend down slightly to do what nature gave that pretty little mouth of yours to do." He gave a vialing salacious smile.

 **~Cfys~**

"Henry I don't get this." Emma stuck out her tongue faintly trying to get the configuration of the game right.

"Dammit… that was close. You gotta press x and L1 at the same time or it's not going to work. What are you tyr—"

 ** _Boom_**

"Got it."

"Oh, ok…" Seems like Emma's getting the hang of this, he thought. "Watch out for that—"

 **~Cfys~**

"…last step buddy." She looked down onto the man she just threw down the stairs. She tried to call out for him to watch that last step that would split his lip wide open, but eh…

She resumes her way up the stairs sure of somebody finding the asshole at the bottom of the steps with his… she tilted her head slightly unsure of what else he could have besides a busted lip, a cherry gushing nose, probably for now on a limp johnson and shriveled ball sack and… she looked behind her and crouched moderately from the wall covering her view of the man… oh yes, maybe a broken neck given how he's twitching.

The neck thing wasn't her doing; it was the stairs, so she's cool.

Again she resumes back her climbing up the stairs admiring her new kicks. They were very exquisite but still retro. She likes that. Although there isn't really any clue on what brand they are, not that basketball man for sure, maybe…? She'll ask him when she gets up there.

 **~Cfys~**

The sound of explosions and machinery firing away can be heard throughout the apartment and the look of determination rivaling steel were very evident on the mother and son duo. It seems things were starting to shift slimly to something tolerable. Saying normal was basically giving a gold medal to nothing.

"Ok, kid. I think it's time both of us take our prescribed medicines. We did hell of a lot for people supposed to be on bed rest. Yeah?" Emma patted his leg while starting to stand up. It didn't go unnoticed of the flinch Henry did, by her, he though didn't notice. She frowned. Must be a reflex thing that took over lately.

"Uh… yeah, uh huh. Lemme finish… [ **guns firing** ] lemme finish this task here, then I'll do that thing…"

"Medicine. Your thing is taking your medicine."

"Yup, that thing." His eyes and moreover attention still latched onto the game.

This was normal Henry behavior, how long she longed for this was indescribable, so she left it at that.

Eyeing the brown paper bag that held their medication, Emma let out a sigh on how this day went so far. Nothing complex, but fairly simple—she barely reading the pill bottle—and as long as days like these come and go, in no time her and Henry's relationship could be smooth sailing again. Of course she was blatantly ignoring the fact that her husband was a big variable in there. In fact—

 ** _Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom!_**

"I got it," she yelled although aware that her son was not going to get up.

 **~Cfys~**

"Showtime" she said aloud, but continued, "Wait! Do I look good?" She looked for a mirror knowing one wasn't in the hall, but still kept an eye out while fixing her jacket and collar. She had to look presentable; a job can't be done looking like crap.

 **~Cfys~**

Emma opened the door and was puzzled at who it was. A stranger no doubt for sure.

"Um… hi? Can I help you?"

"Yes!" _Dammit, too enthusiastic, chill it down._ "You're the Sheriff correct?"

"Uh huh."

"Ok, well…" she rummaged through her backpack bringing it to the front of her. "Also you're the Savior from what I heard and—well of course you're the Savior, like _duh_ , I live here. But um," _Drink_ , "I know that the Savior, **_oreventhesheriff_** ," she hurriedly breathed out, "needs uh… needs her yeah! Um armor… though it would be dumb to—"

Emma couldn't help but smile at the young lady in front of her. She seemed reluctant but still courageous and strong, like she was once upon a time. That's probably why she took a quick liking to her already, not even a minute in. She leant against the frame of the doorway and waited for the other person to finish.

"to… to call a piece of article armor." She brought out Emma's jacket and instantly noticed the widened of eyes on the blonde. "Also…" _Could it be?_ Emma thought. "I found this and wondered if it's, um yours? It seems a bit fashion-y but you know people have different tastes and uh—"

"Yes! Yes, yes that is my scarf and jacket."

"Well, great! I'm glad I could help." _This chick seems cool_.

"Please come in," Emma offered. "Surely you deserve… I don't know but _something_ for this precious gift you returned to me." She's more so speaking of the scarf rather than the jacket, but no one knows that.

 _She's speaking of the scarf._ "Um, sure." Why is she herself fidgeting? She knows what's supposed to happen, so why the slight sweating of the hands?

"I'm Emma… Emma Swan, the Sheriff and Savior like you previously, uh... said." The blonde flushed slightly at her choice of words. "And this is my son," she pointed over to the living room area where a game system, recently turned down, can be heard, "Henry." She perked.

"This is a sweet home you have, really homey and relaxing in a way. I love the-the pretty much everything… maybe not the birds." She looked towards Emma and tried to retract her last words for how rude they sounded. But Emma noticed and beat her to it.

"Oh, don't worry. It's my mom's place. The bird thing is all her. Uh… can I get you something to drink?" She made her way over to the fridge… orrr cabinet, depending on what the choice of beverage would be.

"I know I'm supposed to say tea or water, y'know something dainty and elegant or whatever, but I think a soda would do me justice… if you have it that is, I don't want to impose."

"Not at all. My kind of gal you are." Emma softly assured while sliding a Sprite across the island to the young Miss.

"Is that-is that ok? I don't know your choice of drink so I assumed—"

"It's cool, not really a Pepsi or Coke fan really. So this," she gestured at the can, "is great. Really, thank you."

"By the way…" _this girl seems really cool_ , Emma thought. "What's your name? I don't want to refer to you as 'that one cool chick', you know?"

That one cool chick chuckled lightly while sipping her drink but paused to give the answer to the charming blonde, "Jay… Jay Bexton"

" _ **Enemy has infiltrated the area! I repeat: the enemy has infiltrated the area!**_ "

"Henry, you think you can turn that down?!"

"Yeah, yeah… sorry, my bad"

Jay let a smile play at her lips, while sipping her drink, of the choice of words the game expressed. This ought to be fun.

* * *

 **AN:** There's a personal note in here regarding the story, I left it for a good chuckle. Yeah, u're not goin' to know for a bit.

Inconsistencies or such that has beamed to y'all so far, please point out. My mind's too all over to make sure everything's to perfection. * **sighs** * So, honestly, I really do appreciate your views and respect your silence (I refer to you as my _assassins_ , cos y'all silent, _a-syns_ for short, or _synnies_ ) but I really need to overall hear your thoughts on what you think of the story so far. Doubts, insecurities, etc. are slowly creeping and swallowing me, so make it stop, please. What's wrong with the story? Something confusing? Has my writing gone downhill? Questions? A reviewer asked somewhere in chp 6 or 7 were Em and Reg in btwn. Bc of that one review, the story will go something deeper than what was planned, which is great, much material for Limbo (I think). Either or, like another author said, I write better when honest. So y'know... * **shrugs** * throw the sticks and stones at me and help me become a better author and make this story greater than planned. |-/


	11. Chapter 11

**‼** Know that I'm very grateful u guys take the time to read this and follow/fav it. **‼**

* * *

"So you disobey my specific instructions pertaining to not interfere with anything regarding the Sheriff?"

 _Yes._

"No."

"Hmm." The dark skinned man eyes the Queen for a second, then resumes his relaxed pacing. "So you didn't somehow help the Sheriff get back to the living?"

 _No._

"Yes."

"Meaning yes you did?"

"Meaning no, I didn't."

"So you just happened to be there when the Sheriff appeared to the plain eye?"

 _Yes._

"Maybe."

He let a dark eyebrow rise at the simple monotone syllables being expressed by the Queen, or his prisoner. "Regina… my lovely dear Queen," his back was turned from hers. "Aren't you, too, tired of this game being repeated day-by-day? I'm for sure. I ask you easy questions requiring honest truth, and yet you don't follow through."

Regina wasn't faring well the tidbit. Her hair was disheveled opposed to the perfect coifed image much is accustomed with. Her face wasn't with the impeccable makeup delicately put on, but was in its natural beauty with some dirt smudges showing away and a slight sheen of sweat plastered on her face. She was in a mundane t-shirt and a pair of jogging sweats. Hands were tied down to arms of a chair as well of ankles to the legs of the chair.

The room they were in was… how eloquently can she put this? The room they were in was spine shivering. Torches lined the cavernous walls with only the bare minimum lighted to give a somewhat glow to her capture's, boss, ruler's, or something high and almighty's face. She doesn't really know what the man looks like because he always wore a half skeleton mask. It may be odd for how long she's been here but irrelevant so far. The walls were damp and atmosphere muggy with a chill silently residing that would occasionally creep onto Regina and cause her to unintentionally shudder. That and the sporadic gusts of wind that would howl, in a way moaning, from a faint distance but still discernable to hear.

She couldn't put it in her mind what made the goosebumps on her arm raise ever so much, but all that could be summoned was the way the shadows of the blazing fire would dance on the walls. It was irregular; not right; free spirited. Saying the last was more of a common trait of fire, but she was no fool.

"Regina"

Saying the last was more of a common trait of fire, but she was no fool.

"Regina"

But she was no fool.

"Regina"

No fool.

"Regina"

Fool.

"Regina"

She's a fool.

"Regina"

 _You're a fool_

"Regina"

 _I'm a fool_

"I'm a fool" she voiced.

"Yes you are," the magician gave an understanding smile at the Queen. "What else do you think?" He leant against a corner in the dank cavern letting the shade wallow him with barely a faint light illuminating on him.

She continued, "Fire… we all have it inside us."

"Yes, we do. What more?"

"It gives us drive… to be something we are. Matters not… matters not if we chose what we wanted to become, it just lives in us."

"And does it still live in you?" he asked honestly.

Regina's face was hanging down with her body leaning, more like slumping, to the side of the chair, her eyes pinpointing on nothing and everything. _No._ "Yes." _No._

A head leant back against the wall he was lounging against hearing her speak. Eyes looked down to the small and fatigued woman looking broken from just her stance. "You sound so sure." A hand scratched his beard unknowingly.

"I am" _not_.

Face it Regina: you are long gone. If not now then surely soon. It will be a process—step-by-step—but I promise you it'll happen. Suffocation will be a normal feeling you'll want to endure because why go through all the pain and trouble when the easiest route is to blackout and hopefully forget it all? Forget for a few minutes what it is that you have become what others will see of you.

Hallucinations will come about later in your final stages. You know me; you know I will be there. But what you don't know and should fear above all is something I'm not even certain of. A force to be reckoned with in layman's terms. Until then there will be oppression, tumults, violent effusions, "kick the bucket" thoughts, and the fun increases from there.

In the meantime, in the now, you will hear and respond to my voice. The voice that will purr in your ear and soothe your aching thoughts unintentionally; a sound you will hear and fear from not discerning if it is you or I speaking; moreover, the voice that you will plead—beg—at to hear again because you cannot summon your own anymore, you will be dubious and will always question yourself.

"Your funny if you think that I'd acquiesce so easily," she lowly chuckled under her breath.

I know you will

"You don't know shit!"

Very unlike you to use such crass words, dear.

"Just stay out of my way. I don't need you. I'd never did and never will."

You needed me when you ruled. When you picked every mountain up to find her; when you turned almost every stone over; when you took the hearts of many and ceremonially burned the bodies. You needed me then, and you will now. I can get you through this. I can help you.

A rasping chuckle made light of itself, "How is it that just then you were sounding all menacing and insincere you're now giving off that I have a choice?"

There's always a choice. There always will be. It's all on you, but one wrong move will cost you of everything you are.

So forth this conversation was being held with a disregarded spectator still lurking in the shadows taking it all in. That is Her majesty having what may be a feud with someone else. Who was the someone else? He had a good inkling on whom, but wanted to be certain when time comes. Instead he decided to try and take back the wheel.

"Is this why you keep on avoiding answering my simple questions? Because that "fire" still flames away in you? To be defiant?" asks him.

Regina looks over to the once dismissive corner and is startled to see who is there. Not from surprise, but from how coolly her mind diverted elsewhere just moments prior. How long has she been doing this? Wasn't this in her head? Wasn't... wasn't she speaking to her subconscious? No, no, no. It was just… just something that… that gave darkening thoughts. Nothing serious, right? Right, right. She concurred. Everyone has a negative side to them, it's natural.

 _…_ _soothe your aching thoughts unintentionally… you will be dubious and will always question yourself…_

It's natural.

 _Doubtful_

It is natural.

 _Soothe unintentionally. Make you feel calm, peaceful, lulled._

It. Is. Natural.

 _A sound you will hear and fear from not discerning if it is you or I speaking_

"Natural. Natural. Natural. Natural. Ugh! It's Natural!" She heavily scoffs.

The deflated and defeated state of the Queen seconds ago is now bit of a madwoman jostling in the chair they sit in while bellowing out the same words over and over again on in a frenzy. The wooden chair creaking of her seemingly belligerent state, when really she's resisting the ill of her mind. The more volatile it becomes, the arduous the tact is to feel nothing. **Nothing**. Emptiness is what looms in her often now, and it has become more concerning than last. It has taken her hostage causing her to become impenetrable to such feeling to anything. She will _not_ be beaten down to a crummy pulse. She will _not_ be belittled into something she is not. A mockery is something she will not be, not the butt of the joke, not the speck of nobody, not the not.  
Because she _is_ the mockery of something and everything! She will be the butt of the joke! That speck of nobody in a vacuum that has literally _nothing_ and is an empty space will be something more— something infinite—than she will ever be!

Natural, natural, natural. It is natural she feels this way; feels empty, alone, scared, like she is suffocating under water, the water rushing into her lungs with speed of a mudslide with nothing bracing itself for impact. Being caught victim of it is her lifelong story. Having to hide in the murky trenches from the bullets whistling and singing above her is how she feels. Walking onto the street, oblivious of looking either way, being caught in the headlights of someone's Toyota truck only then to be smacked and slammed down becoming another statistic of the death rate. It's natural.

 _Tick_

It's natural.

Tock

Natural.

 _Tick_

 **Natural**.

Tock

"Natural…" she peevishly whispers to herself. Exasperated by this all is what she feels. Her head is dazed, body malnourished, mouth parched, but her resolve is... intact, but loose. Although-of course- it's, "…natural."

 _Tick_

"...I'm ready." She breaks.

Tock

"Are you sure?" the tormentor asks.

 _Tick_

She hesitates momentarily and looks up to him. Eyes of hers so distant and baffled not believing this is what came of them- of her. Having to witness and live things that should only appear in nightmares. What will come of next? It is always different since she's been here.

Tock

 _'One shot. Think of it as your one shot. You're in and out. It will never happen again, don't shudder, it will never happen again.'_

 _Tick_

 _'It's unfair for everyone around. From the poor to the grandest of elites; messed up for all. Situations are diverse all around but will always be a barrier.'_

Tock

 _It's natural._

"It's natural."

"Are you certain?"

"Do I have a choice?"

 _Tick_

His eyes went from regular brown irises to an iridescent gold color hueing against his chocolate skin. The partial skeleton mask he wore turned to lustrous colors of a rainbow with green being it's trademark colors starting to swirl around the room.

"Nope. Let's go."

 _ **Tock.**_

* * *

 _…_ _Temperature is dropping  
I'm not sure if I can  
See this ever stopping  
Shaking hands with the dark parts of my thoughts  
No, you are all that I've got, no_

 _Don't forget ab-b-b-b-bout me  
Don't forget ab-b-b-b-bout me_

"Dude, this shit is awesome. Off the hook even."

"Thanks, Jay." Henry flashed a full watt smile at another appreciator of the music he was in. The other being himself.

Him and her were doing nothing but listening to different songs off his playlist. At Jay's insistence that is. Turns out she wasn't as familiar as she should be with the music of now and it made her uncomfortable and uneasy. Henry believed that she somehow wanted to fit in with the rest of the world and disregard the one she's still stuck in. The never ever sunshine black and white shit stain he was in too… fairytales.

"Y'know that's kinda deep." She nodded toward the blank monitor blaring music from the speakers.

He looked towards her way moving some hair out his peripheral, "Huh? What is?"

"The lyrics," she answered.

"Yeah… they get you. These lyrics aren't for everyone, only few will understand." He paused. Then continued, "What part spoke out to you?"

"Dunno. The whole thing in general I guess. But overall the "shaking hands with the dark parts of my thoughts" then asking to not forget about him, it's just… deep, I guess." She nervously chuckled lightly to herself.

"Well…" he pursed his lips. He never did have anyone to actually discuss lyric content with anyone for the matter. He almost had Emma, until her attention was needed elsewhere. Probably Hook, he scoffed, _yeah probably_. "Well let's talk about it. You know what they say 'with any lyric around the corner…'"

"...corner…" she encouraged. "Come on"

Henry laughed out loud. "I don't know," a smile splayed naturally on his face. "I just made it up. I don't think there is a saying."

Jay smiled along with him, "well just flow with it. 'With any lyric around the corner…'" she leaned in her seat towards him nudging him to go with the flow.

"With any lyric around the corner… anticipate it." He looked towards her.

"…I think that goes without say homeboy," she laughed. "Though, if you look into it, it could have a more in depth meaning."

"Man," Henry sucked his teeth, "that was literally nothing. There's definitely no deep meaning in that. So what's up? What's your interpretation of the song?"

"Well it's like he said, he is basically scared of himself, right? Immaturity, image, his thoughts pretty much…"

Henry laced his hands and crossed his legs on his desk chair intently staring at Jay smiling at her. "Go on…"

"Don't shrink me!" She swatted playfully at him and they both giggled. "…fear is the death of much and anxiety is just a disgusting feeling to go along with it."

"Tell me about it. Almost puked with the number of assignments I was backed up in at the end of a semester."

Jay grinned. "I'm sure you did."

"I did." He easily confirmed.

"And then the shaking hands part and that's all that he has and now he's doubting it and doesn't want it, the feeling, to forget about him. I think… I think he is much accustomed with the feeling of uncertainty than the relief of it… that-that he thinks that will be a safer choice in the end when something goes, I don't know, awry?"

The room stayed quiet for a few beats as Henry let the interpretation run through his head. It made sense (even though that's not it). There's a feeling or emotion that many feel intertwined with the best, and will cling onto the most. For him it used to be happiness, he guesses, but now… now since Emma's marriage to Killian and his other mother's death, he has been clinging onto the pain and "dark parts" of his thoughts more so than any other feeling.

"Well damn," he voiced. "Way to make me become introspective"

"Ooh! I got it, I got it… um… Holding on to you?"

He smiled at her slightly, "ding, ding!"

"Whoo!" she pumped her fist. "But yeah, that's as much as I took from it."

"And already you sound like a guru."

"Hell yeah!" She stood and started to stretch, "watch out y'all. Guru Jay coming your way. I'mma have those fancy ass absorbent diapers and the hottest pair of spectacles out."

Henry snickered at the image. "Where you going?"

"Bathroom, be right back."

This was going better than expected, thought Jay. It's been no more than a week or so since showing up at the apartment and already both main parties liked her. Henry was probably gleeful that he didn't have to be alone much anymore and could share his interests with someone that cares and isn't preoccupied with other things. She can relate, she was there one point or another. It did panged her heart some, though she'll deny it, that Henry really did have no one. Not one single person in this damned town wanted to know the insightful teen just cos he was the Queen's son, and of course part of the corrupted Charming clan, but you'd have to be dimwitted to honestly think that he's a part of that.

She can at least revel that in the end of the days she can give some form of comfort and happiness to him than what's expected to come.

Her hand reaches for the toilet seat to lift up but she pauses in mid action. "Nooo…" she drawls. Slowly she sets it back down and has to go over what other male tendencies is she exemplifying.

"I mean…" she tried to reason crossing her arms and biting her thumb, but stopped. "Fuckin' great," she muttered going to wash out her mouth with some borrowed mouthwash. Her mood to piss was pissed, so there was that. Maybe food would help.

Immediately what came to follow next was a frazzled blonde colliding with Jay as she stepped out the bathroom.

Emma made it to the apology first, "Oh, sorry Jay."

The other woman smiled at the older one. She could tell that Emma was stressed from something and so decided to lighten the mood. " 'Sup Emma, here give me some," both hands took hold of one another as Jay tried to coerce Emma into an unfamiliar handshake. It did the job though, the blonde woman instantly smiled at her failed attempt.

"Sorry"

"No worries, you'll get the hang of it later," she showed a comforting smile at Emma to ease her some.

"Right, right," she nodded absentmindedly. Her eyes were rimmed red from any sleep and other disrupting thoughts taking hold. The truth is though her eyes were always like this. Vacant, empty, confused and hurt, and so many more emotions that the eyes could convey was rooted in Emma Swan. Jay inherently knew something was amiss and one of the things she had to maintain was a relationship with both people in the apartment. Guess it was time to bring out the big guns, she thought, _feeling talk_.

"Emma," she frowned, "is there something wrong? You haven't been looking the bit of fine. You look distraught and…"

Swan looked like she was caught dead smack of doing something taboo and so naturally froze. "And…?" was all she could muster for Jay to finish her sentence.

The younger woman of the both gulped and straightened her back some. She was not going to sugarcoat the inevitable. She was true to herself and that was that. "Shit. You look like shit Emma. I don't know what it is that got you looking like a walking corpse, but if you want to talk it through just know," _Oh god why is my chest constricting?_ "just know that I'm someone that you can try and talk to with. Like… yeah" she left in the air.

The Sheriff had to blink a couple of times and discreetly shake her head of that of a cartoon character. Normally she would feel offended from how blunt the statement came out towards her, but… she doesn't know. There's a thing in the younger woman that Emma could somehow relate with.

"Uh thanks? Ahem, thank you." She fixed. "I will… take you up on that in the future."

"Cool"

"Yeah, so um, do you wanna stay for dinner? I uh, could make something I guess."

Jay tilted her head sideways a bit, "Lemme just ask you this, ok?"

"Ok…"

"If I were to decline the offer so graciously," they both smiled, though Emma winced some so there was the answer, "what would you and Henry eat? And answer honestly, no bs."

"Err… Chinese?"

"There's no Chinese in this town."

"Pizza?"

"You guys just had that not long ago" she crossed her arms.

"Popeyes?"

"I dunno what that is, but I doubt that's here."

"You ain't wrong about that," the sheriff responded looking away. "Greek?"

"Dream higher."

"Wait, what?"

"You're becoming delusional and basically ran out of answers."

Emma couldn't help but chuckle and get the last punch in, "Sushi"

"The closest thing you're going to get rolled up to your lips is a joint."

The blonde looked down and easily smiled at the riposte, "I knew you smoked."

"How so?" Jay feigned innocence.

"You're too cool for this town."

"So I've been told."

"By who?"

"You"

"That doesn't count"

"Your choice of food doesn't count."

And was defeated the Swan. She stooped her shoulders and collapsed in her posture. "I know. I don't think I have the energy to make Henry and me something."

 _She didn't mention the pirate, interesting._

"Emma, there is a motha-ugly incision scar on the side of your head," she pointed out where it was. "You have just been shot not long ago, in the head. Step down—"

"Well Henry needs some—" her feeble.

"and park your ass over on the stool or couch. I'm sure Henry and I could make something for all three."

And so here was the blonde watching the two friends—her son and Jay—attempt to make something for all three of them as she watched over the rim of her mug. Alcohol was not a wise choice given her head injury and with company around.

"Did you know," the younger woman started as she pinched some spice— _nope that was flour_ — into a pan, "that polar bears are the world's largest land predators."

Henry stopped finessing something irrelevant on a plate and scrunched his brow, "for real?"

"I think I've seen that," voiced Emma, "on the history station."

"Discovery, Emma." Said Henry. "And it's channel ma… not station."

"You're both wrong," Jay intervened. "It's that geographic shit."

"Channel"

"That's what I said…"

"You said shit"

"Same same"

"You're so random," Henry chuckled going back to his plate work.

Jay muttered under her breath, "if only you knew…"

"Actually," started Emma. She had to know, it sort of bothered her some that she couldn't tell. She lived between Boston and NY, she should know. "What…" she looked at Jay seemingly shying back from her question.

Jay looked head on at Emma and gestured for her to continue.

"Um… don't take offence of this, please. But um…" Jay sipped her drink. "What ethnicity are you? I mean like—" she rushed.

Henry hurriedly perked his head up and gave off a glare at this mother. "Ma!" Nice to hear him call her ma in the so few moments, even if it means getting scolded at, Emma thought.

"I didn't mean it with, uh, err… a negative connotation, to put in a way. I-I meant that—"

"Emma." Jay helped. "Don't fret, ok?" she looked towards the blonde for confirmation of relief washing over her. It was of some success, so she continued, "Before I answer, and I'm not offended at all," she assured, "what gave you off to ask the question?"

Emma fidgeted with the handle of one of her mother's mugs. It was of course decorated in some less than flattering, blandish floral patterns with ivy splicing at one end and the other. Nonetheless it was a boring and average mug. Something found in a relative's home that you rarely visit and come to disappointment with because you knew on some spectrum that they were bland. Bleh even. Details to days like this were astonishing on how easily you can reminisce on it. Where the day is wasted away sitting on archaic furniture, and the sunlight radiating through beige curtains, and you just watching the motes of dust bored out the possibility. What is so significant of these times that have to take place in our minds?

Days like these never ceased when Emma was in the system. More often she thinks of those times in quiet moments. This is where she escapes. Some people have books—which are good too—some others have productive initiatives they commence with, and then there's those that are blessed and burdened with to effortlessly slip into their minds staring absently at anything. Wallpaper, a particular stain, a view you're tied to see almost every day, and then some. Those recalling days were calm, boring as hell, but so peaceful in a way you can't capture on your own, it just has to happen. She misses that. She needs that. Wants it even, but to what measure?

"Yo, earth to Emma!" her boy alarmingly snapped at his mother's face.

Jay genuinely frowned. This woman so many looked up to cos she was their "Saviour"—if there was a flavor for bullshit then it was definitely playing on Jay's tongue—was so broken in the literal sense of jagged pieces that it actually hurt to witness. Feelings like these surprised her to the extent now that it was worrisome. She shook her head; she has a job to do, clip the attachments.

"Middle eastern…" she pursed her lips, "or partially Indian, multiracial I guess... depending on where we're at."

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry," Emma cleared her throat. "What was that?"

"You asked my ethnicity…"

"Oh yes, yes! Sorry, dazed out there for a sec," she nervously chuckled some. "That's interesting. So uh… what primary races are you mixed with, if-if you don't mind me asking?"

She is still fairly new to this world, but knows enough. Their history here, especially world history, always grasped her attention. "Well, um…" she placed her hands on the island and leant down across from Emma with Henry listening too.

She spoke calmly trying to identify somewhere in the world where she looks similar around. "My main ancestry traces back to the Middle east... I don't know, I think I'm Persian, probably Iranian then. I mean, I'm giving you a sense from this world. Nothing down and pact from the magic one, you know?" They nodded their heads. "From the false memories when the curse was active," eyes went over to Emma from indirect mentions of the Queen, she seemed fine. "There seemed to be some way of truth of where you're really from regarding your color. So that was nice to somehow in a sense belong somewhere even though not being from this world."

"Right," agreed Henry.

"I can see that, the Persian" inputted Emma. "You have these really defined cheekbones and… I'm not trying to make this sound weird,"

Jay helped, "You're not"

"uh, your lips are a bit plump" _did that sound gay?_ "and thick. It fits you very nicely. You have great face features."

"Thank you" she nodded, blushing some.

"And," came in Henry, "Your hair is like slinky and full but still in that natural way. I mean I can see that Middle east in you with the hair and skin. But defined features giving me some African"

"Definitely the skin," remarked Emma. "I mean," she popped some popcorn in her mouth that she was neglecting for a while. "you have really pretty skin. Almost like tan bordering on exotic type of skin, loosely speaking," she popped another, "you can get away saying things."

"Emma!" scolded Henry.

"What?" Her mouth was filled with the salty snack; her hunger must have finally caught on. "This town needs some culture Henry. I lived in one of the most chaotic and melted pot cities in the world." More popcorn, "Living here causes you to miss some things strongly. Like different ethnic backgrounds. Did you know I celebrated Diwali once?" She was basically digging to the bottom of the bag. "Granted it was on the job, y'know some perp. But I had a helluva time, learned really interesting stuff of the celebration and more of the customs and culture. Food was damn fine, spicy as hell but I loved every bit of it. To this day I still want to go to India." She chewed on the rest of her snack looking at a slacked jaw Henry and a snickering Jay, who gave a fist bump to her for being bold if you can say.

"Mulan!" He erupted.

"Ok"

"L-l-lancelot!"

"Ok"

"Brave!"

She stopped opening a box of Cheezits Jay handed her. "You mean Merida?"

"Yeah," he looked at her expectantly.

"Kid, not the same. Different color hair yeah, and not your average princess which is awesome of course, but not with the background."

"She's from Scotland," he threw out his hands.

"Yeah from here and then not. In the movie sure," she started putting Cheezits in her mouth. "But we were in Camelot and whatever at that time she was there. You're telling me there's a Camelot in the real world?"

"I doubt there is," replied Jay.

"Definitely not. Ok, I'll count her in, but other than that, you came up with three." Three fingers arose.

Jay butted in, "I'm sad"

"Exactly," agreed Emma. "I'm not blaming anything for everyone being sort of the same in this town. I know all these stories are like European and such, but" she looked to both, "if I were to fall in some portal, be a part of some wannabe's book, go on a rescue mission, or anything else while defeating a big baddie," she popped a Cheezit, "I simply would like to see something of significance like the Taj Mahal—"

"Ooh!" exclaimed Jay, "I have to tell you how that was made!"

"Ok, no problem." She continued on what she was saying, "ride a magic carpet, defeat that one dude...," she waved her hand aimlessly.

"Jafar?" said Jay.

"Yup, that guy. Or you know," she shrugged leaning to the side of her chair, "defeat the Huns with MuShu and tag team with Mulan."

Henry remarked, "That's offensive, Emma."

"Ok, sure. But honestly go and ask her and tell me there isn't some sort of similarity within what Disney came up with."

"You know what would be a cool trip but creepy as hell?"

"What's that Jay?" the blonde looked at the brunette expectantly.

"That hunchback guy and Esmerelda. That's something, especially with that religious zealot fella Fargo."

"Frollo. Claude Frollo," corrected Henry.

"Fargo's on Netflix, Jay. Ever seen it?" asked Emma.

"What's Netflix?"

Emma smiled. She hasn't smiled this much in forever. "I thought so. Why don't you guys finish prepping…"

"Alfredo… with bacon?" Henry looked up towards Jay for confirmation. She went to look over at the pot too.

"You had me at bacon," replied Emma standing. "Prep the plates and let's get showing Jay the wonderful world of binging. Whatcha say Henry?"

"So… Netflix and chill?" Jay asked. She heard the term somewhere.

Both mother and son snickered at the lost look on the younger woman's face.

* * *

 **A/N:**  
○And now we know what Jay looks like (though she keeps changing in my head, so...). I don't feel obligated to say this but I will anyway: I mean no ill intent over the racial/adventure convo to those raising a suspicious brow. I think the show needs variety, truthfully. **Updated 10/14/16:** Nvr took geography, I'm sry for any confusion. This chp a bit odd (imo), so I'll probably revise often. Thnx to those who did take a glance at this for personal reasons.  
○Things will start slowing a bit, of course with some hiccups, be4 we approach the climax. Uh... right! This story is far planned than idk, intended, so just know whatev happens in S6a I was probably beyond that, plus this is/isn't canon-ish, so know I didn't fully or even ½ rely on canon. I don't want my creativity/ingeniousness * **smug smile** * to be partially awarded to the show. We'll see if they have anything worthy to put in this.  
○Also, I'm just going w/ the notion that my writing and direction the story is going in is so... diff, intriguing, excitingly mind-bottling, much more etc. * **smug smile** * that that's the reason why y'all won't review. (U basically threw a pebble, lol) That and the names I came up for y'all, you're very dedicated to ur silence. Or you're being sadistic... Nah ( _yes_ ) No! ( _mhmm_ ) it's natural... ( _is it?_ )


	12. Constellations I

**Guest:** Savage! "tick, tock" I can't stop smirking. The POV thing... ok, sure. Just u wait. Who's lost? Explanations are supposed to be flat out said right where we're nowhere u even know of? There is a plot, u're lookin at it, it's just intentionally messy. Not everything's high strung and neat. Just wait. _Tick_ , tock.

Constellations will be like a mini within the whole, while set in the past, which I more than likely think will connect not it all, but something _really_ important.  
So my random (sorry) absences are pretty necessary to give this story the originality I want it to be. That's when I get my ideas most. They won't be drastic, depending on your def.

* * *

Running.

I was running.

Tonight. At night. As lucid are the stars right now.

It was a starry night when I was running.

Find me. Find me. Find me.

I kept thinking of being found.

Echoes.

It was like... voices—others speaking—in my head. But it was me, then not.

I didn't know where I was.

Please find me was the only exceptional thought I could think.

⇐•⇒

The iris is one of the most naturalistic beauties there are. It controls the diameter and size of the pupil letting light reach the retina. It is said that you can witness into the soul of another through their eyes. Haunting, somber, and jubilancy are few aspects to start with. Cold, callous, and spiteful unfortunately are categorized too. It's all about their upbringing. Tabula rasa.

Pale moonlight glints favorably on the chocolate irises that have, and will continue to shatter the hearts of many. Regina can barely make out where she is without the constant banging that's protruding on her skull. If she can describe it, the best she could say was that it felt like a dulling and stretching headache. As if a paintbrush with the color 'headache' is being drawn from start to infinity. Infinity cos it has yet to cease. Which is why she is still flat on her back seeing the visible craters of the moon blur in and out.

A wistful smile does show on her face at the memory of her and Daniel looking at the infinite sky another time ago. She in his arms, him holding her with his breath warming the back of her ear. Memories were they, the closest she'll ever get of him. All because of that insolent brat Sno—what is crAWLING ON HER FACE?!

" ** _Eek_** _!_ " Regina abruptly springs up wiping her face to rid of the insect on it. Swaying instantly follows as she reaches her hand out for anything to pillar herself. She succeeds, but at an offensive cost. There was a tree an arm's distant her palm made contact with but ruefully scrapes against the bark causing a hiss and almost headfirst fall to the ground, 'till her other arm saves her.

She leans against the tree for support and zones in on her injured hand. Nothing bad, she surmises, but it might backfire.

Life of the night with the chirping of crickets and the hum of cicadas thrives all around Regina as she takes in her surroundings. Unfamiliar surroundings at that. And thanks to her dulling headache, her brain couldn't synapse a coherent thought on where or how to begin her trek. So like naturally, she staggered to God knows where in hopes for someone or something to catch her eye.

Twigs snapped, leaves ruffled, branches poke and prodded at the Queen and her always sleek jacket as she pulled herself through nature. All of it feeling like a long stretch with no expecting relief. Not a single thought was forwarding to her mind other than the recent thought of Daniel and Snow...

The fazed woman stops her movement and squints thoughtfully of the pale faced child she came to loathe... and like? Like... When has she ever started liking Snow White?

"Since..." she mumbles, "since StoryBrooke... where... where my son, _Henry_ , lives." She looks around as if he would appear.

 _Hennnry... how wonderful of a naaamme_

"Huh!" she gasps. Her hair twirls as she swivels her head to find culprit of the alluring yet skin prickling hiss that has said her boy's name. "Uh... who's there?" Her vision is still fogging, but lessening. Though, it doesn't help with what is lurking anywhere around her.

Straightaway her head perks to the direction she hears leaves rustle. Eyes of hers follow the trail the rustling comes at, dilating on how long a distance the leaves shivered. Legs start to backtrack slowly on their own volition. Dots are not connecting, but she'll make them.

She resumes, though aware, of the early rambling she was doing. "Um... Emma, where is she?" In all honesty does she scan her perimeter for the sheriff, forgetting for a sec of the thing.

Still to no avail is there another voice heard.

In that moment she calls off her woes and sobers up as best she can (her head still fuzzes) to be vigilante of this place of shrubbery she's engulfed in. She pulls her stone face to hide the fear that wants to slip so easily. But it's smart not to, especially with... she doesn't know. There's nothing to expect or anticipate without any given knowledge. And she always has something to know about her settings. Again, unfamiliar is her surroundings. What is she to do if she doesn't know where she is? The forest here—if it even is a forest—looks nothing like the Enchanted Forest or StoryBrooke's. It's obvious it's not the latter's though, given that everything is bungled here. She could be in a different part of the EF though.

Regina looks around again, already noting that this is not her old home. So there's that.

One more time she perceives for any unnatural rustling, though it could've been the wind, and starts up again her trek. She's not gonna lie, her heels were slowly away killing her what with the pinching and sharp angles they go at as she would have to step over this bough. Or that unnoted low branch snagging her pant leg.

 _It has been what? Maybe..._ She glances down at her wristwatch. _Aaaand it's broken, great._ Time estimation is the least of her concerns. What she wants to know is where are her son and his overbearing mother? The latest thought she can remember of them is how tall Henry had become and the zombie state her Sherriff was in for the rescue mission of her boy toy.

"Err...though I guess it's just Hook... Emma wouldn't like that."

 ** _Mzz. Mzz. Mzzzzzz. Mzz._**

Blasted mosquitoes! They just keep eating away at her. And the sizes of them are a little alarming. That is one definite clue she has that this is not the Enchanted Forest. Along with the foliage. The size of fanning leafs they are! What is this strange place? flashes in her head repeatedly. Probably if she states facts, the things she knows, then she can unravel this web. Not to mention she saw such of an art project not far back with its silk strands silvering in the moonlight.

"Ok..." _this is so dumb_.

"My name is Regina Mills... I am a Queen," she smirked at that, cos she is. "I'm also mayor of StoryBrooke. Mother of Henry. Girlfriend," _that sounds childish_ , "of Robin Hood. Sister of Zelena. Friend of Emma Swan," that left a weird, unsettling taste in her mouth, "friends of Snow," brat, "and David. And for the heck of it (to be funny?) the future murderer of Killian."

Onward, "I came to the Underworld for Emma's sake, err... her happy ending to help rescue her true love." _Are they even?_

Moments leading up to being here, "I..." she falters. How did she end up here? Did she fall down a hole? Was there a split up and so she got stranded somehow? "I don't... know. Heh. Peculiar." She stopped walking and looked down at the earthy ground to dig a little deeper in her mind of her actions leading to her whereabouts. Nothing though. Huh.

This is odd. How can she not remember how she parted from the group? Last she intently recalls is trying to leave the Underworld with a now rescued Hook.

"Wait." She halts again. "Rescued, not saved." They still had yet to prove... the love of Emma and Hook? Now there it is where it gets disoriented at. Damn Hades was causing too much petulant havoc for them just stick with one thing, which was rescuing the little bitch.

 ** _Mzz!_**

"Gah!" she sneered. Mosquitoes, Hook, partial memory lost, all of it galling! "I need to get out of here!"

 _Don't leaaave_

There it is again, that slithering voice. Yet the sound was so... lulling.

Regina straightens her spine, subtly shaking off the goosebumps, and decides to go along with a conversation. If she can convey some information out of this mystic voice then there's probably a chance to escape this swamp clutter. Her mouth is parched, but she swallows the cotton ball. "...Why?" She continues walking while gently pushing shrubbery out the way, simultaneously feigning apathy.

 _Becausssse... if you leaaave, I'll have no one to keep me companyyy_

Regina's voice breaks against her will, all of a sudden her body becoming... hazed. "You're lonely?" That is not what she wanted to say, nowhere near was her thinking it. But something stirred in her compelling her to.

Rustling leaves high and low of the canopy trees make notice in an almost circular motion. Some lazily floating down, one settling on the Queen's shoulder. Regina settled that whatever was speaking, or... hissing? was long.

 _Indeed, my lossssst soul._ (The last word spoken so simply.)

An arched brow rises at that. "Lost soul?"

 _Don't you know what you are?_

Her breathe hitches. There are many things she is. With terms uglier than preceding. She goes by the default answer, "A Queen?"

 _Eheh!_ The slithering voice giggles. _Nooo Regina. **Fthip**_

Freeze.

It's prickling the voice knows Regina's name, but not much so since she was talking aloud not long back. No, what made her lose any mobility and caused her blood to thin was the sound at the end. The flitting of a serpent's forked tongue. An elongate and probably ravenous serpent. Oh god.

 _Don't be afraid little youngling. I can sssssmell the fear right on you. **Fthip**_

"Wh-what's your name?" She needs to think of a way to get out of here.

More murmurous leaves sneaking in the trees and this time being more notable behind Regina. She didn't dare turn around. Nor did she challenge a drop of sweat to bead down her face. She wants to blame it to the humidity, but knows better.

 _Many namesssss I go by, Regina. **Fthip.** But you may call me Kaa._

Apathy. Stay indifferent. "Do you know where I am, Kaa?"

 _The Jungle._

This time the swishing of the leaves was getting lower behind Regina, and unfortunately closer. "The Jungle of what, Kaa?"

 _Eheh! ...What bringss you here my poor cub?_

"I have been separated from my friends—"

 _A-buh buh buh..._ All of a sudden the rustling stops. _Don't play hero if you don't mean it._

"Okay." Why lie if she can smell it? "Do you know where I can find a way out?"

 _Out the Jungle or your mind my Queen?_

Knees buckle at the way Kaa says Regina's title. "Why, the Jungle of course, Kaa."

 _I know what you are, Reginaaaaa. I can sssssenssssse the dissssstraught bubbling in you. You jussssst want to unburden it all._

The crickets chirping, the cicadas humming, the sound of water rushing somewhere, and the blanket of humidity all orchestrating the perfect veil to subdue in was entrancing to our Queen. She wants to lie down. Let her heavy lids close from the world and take her to the floating abyss where anything's possible. Dream. Dream and listen to this serpent's voice that instills fear yet soothes her altogether. It's complex; she's complex.

"I do." Eyes close and a breath of air resigns from her painted, but dry lips. "I'm tired of fighting." And she means it. Something in her wants to drop it all and walk away.

 _My poor baffled Queen. **Fthip**_

Don't you dare give up, Regina! I will not be devoured by a conniving snake.

 _I'll keep you closssse. Ease all of your worriesssss. **Fthip**_ The sound was right behind her now, feet away.

"But I'm so tired..." she faints. Not knowing if it is herself speaking or someone else.

No you are not. That is someone else. Not you. Not me. Something else is trying to control your train of thought and actions. 

"But—"

Turn around swiftly and see for yourself. See what will come to you if you fall whim.

 _Face me, Regina. Leave all of your fearsssss behind..._

Thuds racketing against the breastbone are burgeoning in Regina as her heart rampages to leap out and flee. Her mind is not thinking, but her heart is signaling otherwise. Follow your heart they say. Listen to your mind. Everything will be balanced. All will be fine.

Thereupon the Queen turns around with the grace of a figure skater and is immediately milliseconds away from letting out the look of sheer terror. Swollen, beady eyes pop out from the serpent's head. Slits so long like an ellipse dark in depth makes Regina tempted to put her hand in and conclude if it'll go through—if they are actually hollow. The iris itself is submerged in deep tones that would gleam if she slanted her head this or that way. Ranging from hints of chestnut brown to olive yellow. With of course forest green it's background. Hypnotizing it was.

The reptilian skin on the other hand…. Like fragments of cobblestone slabbed together and mounded with a weathered look to it. Its underbelly seemingly corrugated. And patterns of what looks like different islands lined its back.

 _...and trussssst..._

 **No!**

Its fanged mouth awakened showing the pinked fork tongue and its cavernous throat. Yet the Queen couldn't move, instead she lifted her foot forward. What is she doing?

 _…in meeeee…._

* ** _Fwoof_** *

 _SSSsssSSs! You fool! You dare try and use the red flower on me?!_

But she didn't do it. She didn't make a fire appear. What did? Who—

 ** _Raaaawwrrr‼‼_**

Dead in there a panther pounces Kaa and takes down the serpent. "RUN REGINA! **RUN!** "

Strikes of lightning have to compete with Regina as she takes off and bolts through the Jungle. Thickets of branches are whacking her causing her to stumble and trip and causing her to lurch at abrupt turns. She succeeds in regaining her wild composure. But that is seconds before vines in varying sizes try and grab at her and tangle themselves over her. Thrashing her arms wildly is the constant of her energy attempting to avoid such natural snares that wants to devour her. Process of planning and thinking are thrown over the cliff and screaming is the only suitable answer that she can relate with now. Because she wants to cry out on why is she here. On where is her friends and family.

Instead though... instead she has to stay sensitive of the quivering of leaves commencing above her right now as she sprints. The humidity causing breathing problems at her lungs. The then dulling headache becoming sharp and precise leading to more complications on her escape. And the voice—or voices?—going at her again. Why are they speaking?!

 _(Why are they speaking?!)_

Regina it is you speaking. Not me. 

_(Not me.)_

Find yourself now. Ignore me this time and search for yourself. 

_(Search for yourself.)_

 ** _Whack! Whack! Whack!_**

 _Trusssssst in meeee..._

"RUN! Don't look back, Regina!"

Scrapes are splaying on her face stinging at uncontrollable levels. She may have been poisoned. Hisses are going at her to trussssst them. To eassssse her worries. And something unknown to her eye other than an anthropomorphic panther with a rigorous voice bellowing at her to keep running at all costs are all banging Regina's way. All under a starry night with blood boiling than normal temperature with her thinking for anyone, anybody to:

"Find me," _Find me. Find me. Please find me._

 _Find me_

 _Find me_

 _Find m—_

" _Ah_ ‼"

* ** _Splash_** *

 _Water?!_

"Puh! puh!" Water, why is she in water? Murky and just plain muddy at that.

Ok, forget that, she needs to get out before she acquires some god forbidden disease. Unfortunately she struggles a few seconds rising to her feet in the profound marshy trench; the tail of her coat accumulating more mud and soaking up water making it the more heavier. When she does gain balance is when she gets a somewhat offensive review on where she ended up. No doubt the trench she's in must've been carved out by elephant tusks.

But, "damn..." her mouth slightly gapes at the height she fell and tumbled down from. She gets out the mid of the trench and backs slowly analyzing anyway to climb out. Impossible... _though some Charming ideology won't hurt_... Some air blew out from her lips, "Optimism, don't let me down." First reach was for a rock that seemed promising to begin the climb. What shattered that foolish thought was a keen sensation pinning in her shoulder immediately resulting in a clear hiss. Paying mind to that was last on her list, she's been in worst pain than this, and surely she can climb, carefully, her way out. Following next was another grab for a different rock peeking out the earthy wall. Succession... was in vain. Nope, cos this time a scream from her palm flourished. She's only a good foot off the ground, looking like a child scared to proceed, and already the forces of this gutter are against her.

Ruefully she hops down and glares with contempt at her traitorous hand and querulous shoulder. The joint won't stop synapsing "pain, pain, pain, pain" like a yapping seagull. Same said for her hand. Once more she backs from the more than likely slippery wall if she continued on with her climb and thinks of other ways to get to the top.

"But... should I?" she ponders. She did almost willing get devoured by a snake. Not to mention could've been pounced by that panther... Unlikely though given he respectively helped her, but still. There's probably a better chance staying down in the trench and proceeding either way than discovering the wonders this Jungle has to offer. She's not on an expedition logging in fascinating things, so she'll let up there be.

 _Right!_ Contradictory to the thought, Regina exasperatingly sighs. _Which way to go?_ She surveys both ends of the trench thinking either will bring impending doom. Although, if she's going to make it out anymore unscathed she is going to have to adopt that Charming ideology only just used. It's practically her reliance, so there's that.

The water is idle meaning there's no source where it's heading to. Tilting her head back she apparently takes notice of the craters of the moon and decides that will be her guide. Let it pull her in like it does to the tides. Popping her collar, dusting the small clumps of dirt off her pants, and somewhat fixing the nest of her hair while straightening her posture to her regal manner, the Queen, or just Regina in this case, begins once again her trek. She got this.

Instantly the heel of her boot wobbles on an unidentified rock causing her to seesaw like a helpless bird then falling face-first in a brown puddle. =/

"Ugh! Stupid optimism!" she wipes the drooping mud off her face. Though it was bound to happen... she went off like a too eager dwarf ready to go _pickaxing_. She should've gone at this as post-curse Emma went at it: open to the optimism, but not a dumbass to be unaware that shit flies.

So, this time with a somewhat regal approach, she went at it again, only this time like a moderately pessimistic Emma.

Emma _before_ death of Hooker.

"Ha, hooker…"

Now she is actually concerned and worried on how the others are going. Surely they missed her presence? (Figuratively and literally saying) Obviously there's no definite answer on how long she's been here conscious. Unconscious...? There's no say. Definitely not days, but leading up to one at least. Ergo for all those hours unaccounted for, or maybe the few, it was bound to be noticed of her leave.

Her head instantly lags and face sulks. If it weren't to the mud, the sight of her would be the average black dot New Yorker going at another hateful day of their job. This was very, "shitastic."

...

Exasperating, daunting, deplorable were adequate answers, but... okay.

See but that's the issue, it's not then it is. She's a refined and genteel queen, she knows better than to stoop to the level of the common and speak their tongue. Yet, she also enjoys it. And fact Emma introduced it to her raised some querying brows. The profanities she would "accidentally" let loose seemed to rub off on her. Subsequently she found it a bit endearing to hear that filtered side of the sheriff. Regina's interest would pique a bit at the sheriff those times. And because so, Emma quite remarkably (w/out getting shish-kebobbed) made an impact on her. Heh.

She raises her lagged head surprised by how easily the sheriff of her small town made her sulky mood a bit light. If she keeps on this path of thinking then there's a way to ignore the protest her body are contesting. Well if Emma is one, then certainly Robin can do same. Maybe notch it up ten times more?

Last of she remembers of her... boyfriend?— _still sounds juvenile_ —was a bit of friction between the two. What with the rescuing of the person sending them eternal damnation, her being dead cos of Hades trifle self, then Robin bringing along his newly born daughter to one of the dangerous places of all, of course seldom were there going to be smoochy-smooch moments. In addition that she was practically more worried about Emma than him was also to factor. That's wrong isn't it? Someone that isn't even entitled to rescue that Seward pipe pirate goes to the Underworld with his daughter and soulmate.

 _Soulmate_.

"Actually that makes perfect sense." Robin is quite insistent of their love to one another with the grandest reason of them all. Because they are soulmates. One piece of the other; the cherry to the blossom; the... "Apple... (she squints her eyes) to the cider?" That's definitely something she could use as of now. For the dry patch on her tongue and the stupidest crap, no—stupidest shit that goes at play every other goddamn week of her life now. 28 years of solitary was stale and dreary. Post-curse was interesting but sweltering given her redemption arc and rekindling trust between her and her son. But from thereon, somewhere around the whole complex tree of the Charmings blending with Gold's had made it all the more migraine worthy. Then of course Swan screwing up going back in time with one-peg Kev and bringing back Marian, a.k.a. Zelena. And so forth.

"Beh" she rolls out. A sound on the scale of "I'm tired of stuff like this" coupled with "we'll speak of this later" cos she's going to have to have a talk with Robin on where they stand. Absurdity is taking root in their lives and it can't be greyed with bringing children on dangerous missions, regardless how stupid the current mission is.

"Beh..." she slurs out again. It seems Robin did nothing but made her tired and just wants to collapse. Maybe she should think about Hen—

 _Is that fire?_

"It sure looks like it." Just cos there's fire blooming doesn't mean everything's dandy. It's now more imperative than prior for defenses to enact and for determination to be austere.

From here to the approaching fire, Regina is actively mindful that she does indeed harbor magic and begins attempts to conjure up her signature fireball. The amount of fire a baby dragon could cough is light years beyond what she's sparking though. More like blinking, cos she ain't lighting shit. Low growls are humming in her throat with each failed—and some embarrassingly to her mind—tries to conjure a fireball. With the rate she's going at, she is more prone to be at a disadvantage if this stranger is dangerous. She is not going to give the benefit of the doubt.

Atta girl. Now that's it.

Averting her concern from trying to ignite her flimsy Bic lighter of a fire, Regina at chance confers with that voice that was speaking earlier.

"...?" It's a voice in her head, how does she greet that?

You were always bad at greetings.

"Who am I speaking to?" She slows her hike to the fire, pretty soon she's going to have to climb out.

You mean whom.

"Wrong. I want a name."

Well who do I sound like?

She furrows her brows, "A cross between my mother and me."

You've got to be kidding...

"See, now you sound like Emma." she rebuts.

"Regina? Regina is that you?"

Most definitely Regina stops with eyes hunting for a glimpse of blonde and red leather that just said her name. Her heart swells that's she's been found, and of all people it was the Savior. Only Emma truly has the gift to retrieve Regina from anywhere. Oh! and Robin. Emma, where is she?

"I'm right here (here)" Pivots goes the Queen. Scanning a whole 360 and up where her friend is while thinking why was there an echo after she said 'here'. She's covered from head to Louis Vuitton boots in mud and other vile things with a pining shoulder and a by-the-second burning palm. It might be infected. So where's Swan?

"Emma! Emma where are you?... _Come on_ ," she growls holding her injured hand. "I don't have time for games, come out and help me!" Up and around she radars. "NOW!"

And that just about does it. Honestly, if she...

A puddle is rippling. A puddle she's nowhere near to. _Perhaps my voice carried over?_

Pebbles and soil start to loosely slide down from the trench. Is there something up there? She backs carefully to perceive the top as best she can but witnesses nothing. _Maybe a rodent?_

 ** _Clop... Clop... Clop..._**

A horse? "Why would a horse be in the Jungle?" Regina whispers. Or maybe... the sheriff is riding in on a horse? _Or Robin... that's acceptable too._

 ** _Clop... Clip... Clop... Clip... Clop..._**

It's hard to discern the sound provided it's hooves are in soil, but there are sporadic slabs of rock, so.

Regina sees the dark silhouette belonging to the, "that's not a horse..."

Zip goes the wildebeest past Regina and into the darkness that looms ahead in the trench. At least she thinks that's what it is. Helps not that there's a torrent of qualms in her stomach now. Those things travel in herds, right? Certainly there should be more to come.

Thus, the motivation she has to continue on with her hobbling to the distant smoke intensifies. Meanwhile as she focuses to arrive there she still attempts at sparking a flame, or even better, teleporting out the trench.

"Mmha!" uproots a giggle from her throat. As if she can poof out of here. Instead she occasionally glances for an opening to help her climb out; being trampled by nature's ugly isn't on the agenda today.

Though, what she does want to know in the meantime is: where the hell did Swan's voice carry over from? Regina could've sworn her ears heard the frantic sheriff. She still keeps an eye out for her too, but is becoming reluctant on that. It's no surprise she's been hesitant on the blonde's "actions" lately.

"Going to hell... becoming the Dark One... trying to kill my sister." Wait... Did she really expedite a pregnancy just to kill Zelena for Hook? To extract the darkness that kept him alive into her? The brunette is well aware of all this, but neither had the time nor the privacy to actually dwell on this. But now...

"That bitch." Actually, "that selfish bitch." She's no saint herself what with locking her pregnant sister away only with the thought to take custody of the baby with Robin when it was born. Also she sent a tornado after her.

"Eh..." she grimaces. But knows they're both in the wrong. She just wants to make it right for Emma. What for? No clue—self-plausible deniability to her own aspect. Can't be held accountable for unknown feelings.

"Coward."

She abruptly turns, "Huh?" and ghosts from what she sees.

No, there is nobody to be held responsible for calling her Rumple's namesake, even though the name sounded much like a certain blonde. Draining the little blood left in her cheeks was an overwhelming herd of wildebeests yards away. They were ambling, and at the thought of it, perhaps ignorant that she wasn't so far from them. Great, last she needs is to frighten them.

 _I'll just stop trying to ignite a fireball..._

* ** _Fwoosh!_** *

Ironic how this was as bright as the sun. Consequently there were noises of terror emitting from the wildebeests and the whole lot of them ramming into one another like a car jam. Regina's face was priceless; eyes bulging with a speechless mouth widened more than a gate. Just cemented in place was she baffled by it all. She wasn't even trying to conjure anything, just setting her hand down. But out of nowhere a solar flare summons from her palm. Not even the good one. So not just absolute shock she was in, but also a flash of pain searing into her scraped palm.

 _Please don't head my way, please._

They headed her way.

From what she's aware, the whole world around her started to vibrate hitting crescendo upon crescendo from thereon. First it was the rippling of water that alerted her. She took action by swiftly pressing herself to a side of the trench, wanting the earthy wall to absorb her. Second, the cacophonic sounds of the wildebeests blaring—crossing with a sound of a bull and a pig—gave that still heart of hers a jolt it needed to pump and course blood to her ears. She called off any logic and started to climb, praying for the best. Even if she can't, there can at most be a height advantage to avoid getting caught in the haywire. Third, the rush. Them stampeding and stumbling on one another, and her keeping keen attention to keep her heartrate going and mind unfazed.

The sound of a string instrument going off note happens when her foot loses traction on a rock causing her to slip some. Plummeting is the heart within her splashing in her stomach. She digs her forehead closer into the earth trying to catch her breath that wants to escape without fail. Only a few feet she's off the ground with the current of wildebeests following. Time only slows thinking that it will end soon.

Gaining the morsel of confidence, she claws again for a new rock. It's a rhythm, that's it. Hand, leg, hand, leg. Grab, lift, grab, lift. Don't look down. Grab, lift, grab, lift. Breathe. Claw, step, claw, step. Don't look down. Claw, step, claw, **_slip_**

"Oh god!" she shakes. Break the rule: look down.

"Ermuh" she spills, averting with all her willpower eyes off NASCAR below her. A tear slips out and glides down her cheek. She knew she wasn't going to hold on for much longer. _This is bound to become another Mufasa moment._ Tightly she screws her eyes shut thinking of all her loved ones-trying to ignore her spasm shoulder. Robin, Snow and David, townspeople, Emma... she's going to miss her. Zelena and stick.

Huh?

She digs to scrutiny her fingernails on the little she's grasping and pries her eyes open to see right above her is a long branch intertwined with a thick vine reaching out to her. And poking lightly seemingly not to offend.

"Let me help you!" Yells out a rugged voice. She doesn't think twice and seizes for it and clenches her teeth on the protest her hand is signaling. Right up she's pulled from the trench with time, coming in closer perception to her helper's face. When she is at the top teetering from the precipice is not when she sums what he looks like, but when she sums the feeling of grass again as she heaps down to the ground filled with exhaustion.

The qualms she was earlier feeling start subsiding. But not wholly. Her head starts becoming drunk; hard to process anything. And breathes start to shallow. It's to the point where she can't tell which way was up, but knows all about sideways.

"C'mon, up we go" requests the man hefting her up to her feet at which she shuts down again.

Found her?

"Ohhhhh, _shut-up_!" Regina moans.

"Pardon?" speaks him.

"Mmm, not-not you," she slurs.

The man helps her up again. "1... 2..."

She venoms out, "Gah! Not that shoulder! Broken—ah! Broken!"

"Ok, ok." He moves to her other side slinging her arm over his shoulders.

"I know..." she breathes heavily, "I know it was you messing with me."

"Huh?"

"Not you. Her," given her inebriated-like-state, she lolls her head nowhere and everywhere. "Playing with my head... making me think Emma was here."

Guilty as charged.

"Right," the man breaks. "Let's get you to base."

Almost as soon as they began their short trek, a feeling of queasiness overridden Regina. If it weren't for the stranger supporting the majority of her weight, she would've been more than capable crumbling down on her own. Beads of sweat gleamed in the nightlight on her. Everything else of the environment was drowned from her ears with just the layered breathing and weird buzzing sound in her head. Trees shifting from place to place, settings becoming diagonal, occasional stumbling and tripping, and the unpinpointed ache all over her body made this all feel surreal. Just one massive humid and surrealistic dream. When she wakes from this—it's becoming to the aspect where she thinks this is truly unreal—she's going to go on a cleanse from familial drama. Tie the loose ends then sip her cider to oblivion.

To be candour, she is honestly tired. Earlier she wasn't too keen to admit this to the voice disarraying her from being eaten. But with this and what's happening in StoryBrooke... or UnderBrooke, she feels a whim away from burying herself from the drama. Sure she made amends with Zelena and her mother, Cora, and it warmed her heart fathoms beyond; and helping the lost souls her and Rumple mostly attributed there and so forth, but Lord why the incessant need of climaxes? Not that she should be complaining, she's more than responsible for some mishaps they fortuned over, but overall there's always something. Redemption has been a long and struggling journey and has yet to be properly fulfilled. And she's aware of that. She is. But why always at the chance does she have to rise with the heroes and adopt their ways momentarily?

"Because it's the right thing to do, Regina. Be a hero; a good guy. And help those in need."

Ah, the Emma voice again; the epitome of heroic deeds so far. All she needs is Charming to show, then she truly has a tirade of heroism to indulge.

There's no problem assisting those in need. It's having the constant feeling that she's required to. Because there is this formality of brainwashing from her land that there are only heroes and villians. Good and Bad. Righteous and Evil. And although there is a gray, it's not acknowledged enough to abandon that mentality. Not wholly, but only just. Prime example being Hook. It was gray of Emma turning him into a Dark One. Not good without consent, but not bad considering she saved his life. And then after his self-discovery he is a Dark One he starts spewing curses and eternal damnation on a whole family in retribution of his "love" turning him into the "vile crocodile that's bane of me existence".

"And then... and then we go and save him!" she heaves out. The stranger glances over to her and dismisses her rambling for delirium. She's not in good shape.

"But it was Rumple that caused his death by his trickery on us all," reasons Emma's voice.

"That's no reason to back him. He almost killed our son!" Yes, yes it's understanding to discover reason you're still standing and not 6 ft. under is cos you're a Dark One. And in all fairness it's fine to get pissed you're one of the vilest creatures you came to hate but—"he took it too far!"

Her voice echoes again, "but I love him."

"I love you! But this must be the stupidest thing we've done... that... that you thought of!"

The tall man smirks. "Screaming out declarations of love are we now?" He muses, "I enjoy your company too."

So you do have feelings for that insufferable Savior? Ah.

Worry and confusion flickers on Regina's face. "What? That's not what I said!"

"Calm down. I'm not just to that point yet," jokes the stranger.

"Oh! Not you!" She trips over a branch bringing back up her queasiness.

'Tis luv. You have feelings for me Swan?

Hook? What is that slugtoad doing in her head?

"She's not property you piece of kel—"

'course she is (he annoyingly breathes out). I gave up me beloved Jolly Roger for her. A tit for a tat, aye?

"Regina you have to understand, he died saving us. You, me, Henry. I owe him that..."

Instantly she leans to her unoccupied side milliseconds from falling before being tugged at by her companion.

"Whew! Almost limped on me there."

She ignores that little mishap altogether and continues. "No you don't Emma! You owe him nothing! He caused all this him—"

This all cos of you, your Majesty! If it weren't for that slink of darkness engulfing ye, we wouldn't be in this predicament! Swan givin' herself up tryin' to save something useless! It's cos of you we're here. For you I died.

Once more she towers over like Pisa, again not succeeding in her topple.

"Emma, don't listen to him. He's trying to..."

This time she stops altogether and just sways in spot.

Her aid queries, "Are you alright? Do you feel you're going to—"

She wretches on him. And this time gives in to fainting.

"Carrying always seemed like the better option anyway," he grimaced.

Luckily for the both they were in short distance to the campfire. The light-chocolate skinned man bridal carries Regina the rest of the way. He sinks to his own thoughts on the rambling this woman was doing. Stopping her seemed insignificant, and less amusing. Also impolite. Brown irises inspect the eyelids of the other's and proceeds on the rest of the face. Her essence of magic was potent, so navigating her wasn't so difficult. Not that he was actively searching but rather happened upon it going about a regular search for supplies. That and the solar flare she erupted. Once more he looks down at her.

Indeed she was a powerful sorceress that much he can presume.

But who was this Emma and other she was speaking about?

In no time they arrive at the campground. The stranger sets down Regina close to the dying fire and retreats in his hut for supplies. When he does comeback out, he just stands over her.

Nag. Nag. Nag. Is all that pinches in the back of his mind. **Nag** , _she could be the one_. **Nag** , _this could be your ticket out_. **Nag** , _she's your responsibility now_.

Call him crazy but he had this vision that one day he'd hold unlimited power in the palm of his hand. Power treacherous and invigorating than he once held. Unrestricted and free.

His eyes twinkled, turning the fragment of gold and then some... "The stone has finally turned."

A muffle lets loose from Regina's lips, "Mmnh…." The man kneels beside her and stirs her to wake.

"Miss. Miss...?" No longer than a few seconds lashes open.

Regina alarms on the image refining over her. First there's 3, then 2 slowly morphing into 1 person. This must've been the guy who helped her. She at least owes him thanks.

Sluggishly rising and silently thanking for the fire, Regina eyes the man who's now sitting against a log looking into the flames. Perhaps deciding to give her some space. She takes a seat on the log too with distance from him and looks at the flames as well. Crackles from the fire and anonymous sounds of the Jungle only offer the noise between the two. Regina this time takes account of the man's features and oddly can't stop herself from just blatantly checking him out. It seems the nighttime gave exaggeration on his looks.

He was a bit lighter. His face was lightly chiseled, the Jungle probably taking the little youth left in him. He was probably around Regina's age, so maybe late 30s likely early 40s. Life must have torn him down a few times from the weather look he was sporting and his poor position. Lean and long, but muscular and his hair slightly curly and loose but thick. And there was a nice rugged beard he was donning, patchy but just the right amount. Overall he had an unkempt handsomeness. Mystery definitely shadowed his appearance too.

Her thumbs twiddled, "So um... thanks for the rescue." Chocolate irises are kept on the flames.

"...yeah... no problem." He tosses some sparse twigs into the fire.

Quiet settles again.

 _Okay... man of few words, shouldn't be too hard to work with._ Her hand rakes her positively nested hair. What follows through is a repulsive smell that makes her face scrunch. It smells like it's coming from her, which is only impractical.

"You vomited earlier... I'm fine, though you could use this." Beside him he grabbed and handed over some mint leaves to Regina.

A furious blush crossed her face. She took them, nodding her thanks. "Yes, apologies to that."

"You were also rambling on what I can assume nonsense." He turned his neck over to her expecting a vouch.

No reason to indulge him on the details. She'd rather forget the moment herself. "Right, I apologize for me in general."

"I think the Jungle would benefit more from that than me. So what's your name? Don't lie," he tossed another twig.

Naturally she riposted, "Well what's yours?"

Easily he answered. "Don't have one."

She muttered under her breath, "a real man's man..."

"So?" he perked.

"Regina." Her posture became rigid and her legs crossed.

"Nice to meet you my Queen."

"How... did... you...?"

"Not really a secret that's the meaning of your name, is it not?" He looked over at her expectantly like that was as simple as it gets.

"No... right, yes!" She fumbles trying to button an imaginary button on her coat. "Truce?"

"Was I being hostile?"

"No," she switched-cross her legs. "It's more for me. But yes?"

"Sure."

"So... name? Don't lie."

He smirks. "I was tellin' truth. I don't have one. I've shed my old one; it haunts me. Makes me feel like a failure."

Her jar twitches from the confession. "Understandable. Can I bestow you one? Unless you'd rather be referred to as Man."

"Well I am a true depiction of Adam don't ya think?" he cheeked rubbing his beard.

She tries, but the tug of her lip doesn't go unnoticed.

"Alright, be my guess."

Regardless of how tedious this action is, it does make Regina feel a bit productive being given a task, especially if it's a perpetual outcome. "Anything about your old name or one of your heritages you can tell me?"

He raises one leg up throwing his arm across it, " _Eh_... I dunno, French?"

"To which?"

"Both I guess."

"Well I can't see you with something rough or mundane... The name needs a light touch. Something enticing, strong, though delicate..." she trails off.

"So..." he waves his hand around, "a woman's name?"

She squarely reviews him and creeps a smile, "Bertha."

A chortle and choke mix coming out the man. "What gave you that thought?"

"Makes you tolerable" she shrugged.

"Uh-huh. What about a name befitted for a king? We'll match."

Merely a glance is given Bertha's way. "No, not everyone has the stature to befit a monarch's name. Some of the best names are sharp and delicate. More so if there's no real meaning behind it. It gives the bearer a chance to engrave their own description into it." Soft glows give life to the Queen's eyes as she bores into the fire.

"So I'm guessing you have some troubles with your own name too, huh?"

"I've made peace with it. Although yes. Seldom does it still come back to taunt me."

"Hmm. I like the letter L, that should help, right?"

"In fact, it does" she smirks. "I got this urge to call you Lucy."

Lucy chuckled. "Make it masculine, yet genteel sounding like you want, and it's all yours," he cruised off.

"Great!" she chirped. What's something that fits the description but French and still to her wants? She hums for a bit before brightening a smile and staring at her newly named acquaintance. "How's Lucien?"

His brow rises, "Lucian?"

"No, Lucien. Lu-SYAHN," She taunts. "The n is soft but there."

"Lucien..." he rolls off his tongue. It sounds quite nice actually. Devious and wholesome, complex, earnest, and also refined. He can get on board with that. He can _make_ something out of that...

"And thus Lucien was born. Right beside his Queen." He wickedly grins receiving the same action from Regina.

"Nice to know I could be of assistance."

"Indeed." He flicks a twig.

"Okay then," the brunette breathes out. "Think you can help me out this place? As you can see I'm not a resident here."

Lucie looks at the woman taking her attire in. "Not even a pioneer, eh?"

"Not at all," she shifts uncomfortably on the log. "So...?"

"I think I can be of some assistance," his head bows.

A flash of colors glints his eyes.

* * *

 **Enthusiastic Readers:** i'm sry **if** u're getting confused and losing interest with lack of mention motives these sneaky bastards have (someone unfollowed me, damn =/) Savage ;) is onto something, but things u want to know aren't supposed to be known until certain points. Yeah, boo me. Reason for little info given out is cos the hurrah of this story isn't anticipated for and is the focal point of everything being glued together. The story's begun, but we're not there why I had this idea to share it with you. I guarantee you will see what I see. Patience, imagination (critical for this), and belief that that^ summary has brought u here for a reason is your motive to stick to this. I'm not those top fanfic writers we all know, just someone wanting to share an idea no one has probably done w/ this fandom (cliché, I know). This is only the tip of the iceberg—the Titanic has yet to come. |-/  
...I gotta stop w/ these long ass a/n's. But that's me, so. ツ


	13. Chapter 13

"Aye, you wanted to see me?"

"…sir"

"Pardon me?" Hook raises a brow querying at the man's one word.

"It sounds better and complete," he gestured for the pirate to take a seat while he did so himself, "when you call me sir."

Hook looked dead on at the man in front of him going over his request for a second. Sure he could call him sir, but even then he himself is a captain. Should he really be showing acknowledgement towards an inferior rascal?

"I think Lawrence will do just."

The stout man sitting across from the pirate internally groaned at not even the ounce of respect he could gain from his comrades. Pathetic was this! How is he supposed to be looked upon as a leader while these people treat him like the stalest of dirt?

He cleared his throat ridding of the hoarseness wanting to erupt from his lack of reign. "Right, um… the master—ahem, _I_ wanted to hear what has gone so far with the boy."

"Henry?"

"Uh, yes, him." Already he was sweating, how hapless.

"It wasn't a question, it was a statement. The lad's name is Henry. Stop referring him as a piece."

The balding man sneered at the pirate, "Sounds like you care."

"Cos I do you sack of dung! I'm only here to do what's right for him. It's you I don't care for, and I rather keep it like that."

Lawrence instantly pouted at the transferring of words between the two. Never once have they gotten somewhat along. The pirate reminds him too much of his previous sire he worked for. Thinking he's all smitten and well off then most unfortunate folk. This man here doesn't have a tiny inkling what it is like to be pushed around, and never probably will.

Killian could care less for this sack of horse shit sitting across from him. Never once has he cared for the man. But he is aware that he's the middle man and must listen from what the higher up passes on, so…

He starts tentatively, "He's doing fine…" subconsciously he scrapes his hook against his pant leg and conjures a thin smile. "He and Emma are finding some common ground now, so that's good."

"…and your fine that he doesn't want to reach out to you?"

Drop goes the wistful smile on Killian's face. "I think… I think it's best that way." It does—and mistake not—that it pangs his heart some that he will never actually connect with Henry. But some things are just meant to be how they are. And what with he's ongoing with, many at that, it's best… it's best to keep it so.

Here voiced the idiot, "I think it's best to keep it like that too. Distant yourself form the boy."

"His name is Henry and he's my stepson! I will always care for him, you blundering—"

"No! You're the blundering idiot you white wash of a pirate!" Lawrence slammed his fist down to invoke the strength he needed in his words. "You honestly think you can have a relationship—father and son _at that_ ," he spat, "with the deceit and betrayal you'll later unfold to _Henry?!_ How dare you try and claim such position to the boy and still go ahead with your ways!"

Wide-eyed was Killian from the eruption of Mt. Laura, he snickered to himself at the insult. "You know what," he stood up, "I quit. You can take your nefarious deeds and shove them up your arse." He started walking away, towards the door, "and for the record," he pointed out with his ringed fingers, "your resemblance is that of a _swine_ "

The flabbergasted man gasped at the directed insult. Stammered words were all that showed to make out his mouth. "uh- b-b- you—"

"G'day, Laura." And slam went the door

* * *

 **A few weeks ago…**

" _WHAT DID YOU DO?!_ " A perspiring red and blotchy face Killian intrudes the entrance giving the door a good awakening.

Unfazed from the erratic (but honestly expected) disturbance, the lean man carefully rests his book down on his stomach and turns his head to the pirate (he was lying down on a chaise).

"Do come in," he gestured with his hand.

"My wife… my wife and-and Henry, what did you do to them?!" Manic is the look in the Captain's eyes and stance as he closes in on the man before him while impatiently waiting for an answer.

On the many voyages he has done in his centuries lifetime, this occurrence has topped the list.

Doused with blood is his chambray vest—Emma's and some of Henry's. Flicking like a light switch are images of the night's events that happened trudging along in Killian's mind. The man can barely hold it together as it is.

"This wasn't the deal. Th-this wasn't what was supposed to," he had to swallow back a ball of emotion wanting to take hold of the rest of his words. "Why is Emma in hospital with a gunshot wound?"

The magician's eyes look straight into the pirate's. He can see the pain and fear masking on the other man's face. Pain and fear he was renowned for. For invoking into others in order to cement his that came about during his upbringing.

He enunciated his next words carefully for the pirate to understand. "She's not dead. Emma will not die."

Killian's voice broke like a pubescent teen's, "Wh-what?"

The magician rose from his spot, setting his book aside, and placed each hand on the pirate's shoulders to calm him some and remind him that he's rooted. "Fear not, Killian. Emma will be safe, you have my word." He let his words hang in the air for a bit to settle into the pirate's mind. But still kept his hands rested on the other man's shoulders.

What should've bayed his tweaking nerves some was replaced with uncertainty. "B-but she had, Emma had a bullet hole through her skull. How can she survive that? How can—how can…"

"Shhh, don't worry about it, yeah?" He tilted his head to the side to have the pirate looking at him while forming a soft smile to help with his words.

"No?"

"No," he squeezed the other's shoulders. "Your Emma— _Swan_ , your Swan will be in healthy condition in no time, scouts honor." He did the sign.

A small, tepid smile took placed on Killian's face, "I've no clue what that is."

"Think of it as a visual promise, yeah?" He squeezed the back of the pirate's neck, letting the other arm drop.

"And of Henry?"

"The prince is perfectly fine. Everything of what I said was to happen have gone smoothly. If I'm correct, the crocodile will get the news and proceed with the healing."

The pirate sniffed and brushed his nose slightly while nodding his head going over the words the other man said. Emma's fine. Henry will be. It's been a hell of a night, but it'll die down now.

* * *

 **Currently**

And now here he is, in front of one of the places he spends the rest of his days at. Bleak and dull will become the day like usual while he drowns away his inner demons. His own mind will become hazed with his veins rushing with the magic that alcohol induces. Words will slur out his mouth for "another!" and his fist will pound on the bar's countertop with incoherent stories of his glory days being a pirate and reigning the seas.

"Black Beard? Pffffttt! I-I am captain of these seas. Captain _Hook_!" He raised his glass in the air with the content spilling over the rim.

In a booth tucked away in the corner was a very attractive Miss looking like she had better days while she subconsciously trailed her finger along the rim of the tumbler. Over by the pool table was everyone's favorite, Leroy. And scattered about were odd others from business suits with loose ties to the hooky school kid.

He averted his attention back to the bartender that was cleaning a glass while hearing the rambling of Killian. "What 'bout you, mate? Do you… ya think I'm more suitable than beard black?" He leaned over extending his arm signaling for a refill while waiting to hear the expected answer.

"No."

Of course a comedic look took Killian's face away. "Surely your mistaken, lad. You do know who I am, yar?"

The body built man looked at Killian for a beat letting him deflate his self-pride. It worked too.

"Aye… I see." He gulped the refilled drink in whole. "You must… you must be the odd few that aren't aware of me heroic deeds." He swayed in his stool a bit.

"You're weak"

"Pardon you?"

"I am, you won't." The bartender poured more of the alcohol into the man's glass letting his eyes roam over the bar. His eyes stayed longer than necessary on the brooding Miss.

Killian followed his line of view, having trouble some with a fogged head, but managed. He squinted a bit. "Aye…" he turned back to the man. "She is a beauty, but my wife, Emma," he smiled sadly, "is the rarest gem in the sea."

The bartender, Joy— _huh?_ , thought Killian, _he looks anything but_ —returned to drying more glassware and wiping the counter. "I know."

 _This man really doesn't speak much, does he?_ "Know what, lad?"

"…that you're married to her and she could be considered rare."

The pirate snorted at the comment. "I thought ye didn't know who I am?" he sipped his drink to stay a bit lucid for this conversation.

Joy looked directly at the pirate, " _Was_. I know you were a pirate. Respected, feared, a story at that."

"So…?"

"But I don't know who you are. Currently; presently. For all I know you're fouler than you were as a sailor."

The pirate stayed a bit quiet as he considered this over. "I'm anything but…," if he meant that in a good or bad way was to be determined by Joy himself. Hook didn't have to confirm anything.

"Hmph," the man snorted.

Few more minutes of silence lingered between the two before Killian spoke once more. "So… you're black."

"Yep," Joy replied without hesitance. "Problem?"

"Not at all, mate. Just not a lot of ye in this dusted town." He took a swig of his drink.

"No there isn't… you sound disappointed." He refilled the man's drink without being told, or signaled so.

Killian sighed. "When you have traveled the realms and sailed the seas for as long as I, you see much beauty and diversity among people."

"Hm. So you think I'm beautiful?" Joy teased, but then laughed softly at the look on Killian's face.

The pirate's stomach knotted a bit as he saw the pearly white smile on Joy's face. He downed his drink in response. This only caused Joy to outright laugh.

"Ahhh… y'know I'm not fruity?"

"Gay?" corrected Joy. "I know. Just wanted to pull your strings some."

"Aye, I see." Right then the bar's doors swung open showing fresh faced people ready to start their evening. A lot of young women too, mid-20s at most.

Killian turned back to Joy to resume their conversation, but stopped as he saw the stern look on the bartender's face. "What?"

"I think it's best if you leave. Right now."

"What, why?" Now even more he didn't want to leave. Was the man in some sort of trouble?

"Just go. You can come back tomorrow, I work then." He then walked away from Killian giving his duly service to those in need.

Surprised did not come close to the feeling or look on the pirate's face. He tried to stay a moment longer seeing if Joy would return to him and say it was some form of joke _, everyone has their own form of comedy_ , but just resulted with nothing. Regretfully Killian washed the taste of bitterness out his mouth with the rest of the alcohol and made way out the Rabbit Hole.

* * *

 **A few weeks ago…**

"C'mon Swan! Don't bring me down, don't, _don't_!" Killian was hulling the body of Emma Swan, his wife, on his shoulder. The blonde's hair cascaded over the back of his, occasionally glimmering in the night sky. "Beautiful," would've made someone breathe, of course if not what the situation actually was.

No, no cos what the situation was made of was a presumed dead Emma Swan from a self-inflicted gunshot wound through her head, execution style.

Killian was doing his everything: using his strength to haul Emma, his willpower not to break, and his courage to not fall immediately to what the scene depicted. You know what it depicted? A dead Saviour/Sheriff/ Wife/Daughter/Mother/Unrequited Lover (but he doesn't know that) murdered (he knows it wasn't that) by the hands of someone, now with an definitive orphaned Henry stuck with people the lad spites that will drive him even more to the brinks of insanity.

The pirate willed his tears away that were ready to spill over like a tub, to not succumb to what the scene depicted. Because there was another, a different one, to be sought and shown to all. And it was going to be hell firing from above to let this scene become the final, perpetual.

So with his willpower, courage, and lingering strength (when did his wife slightly put on a few?), Killian Jones hurtfully hauled the presumed dead body of his wife, his Swan, the Emma Swan he loved, to the cruiser he dreadfully drove over minutes prior, to take her and Henry, his step-son, over to the hospital in high faith and hopes to save their lives. He will not, _will not_ , let the thought of them actually being dead to assail his mind.

Because right now his mind is telling him, compelling him to let these visual emotion identifiers—the tears—to course down his rugged face at just what the aspect of this scene depicted. His calves were burning, but he managed to get to the infuriating metal box (that now seems like a godsend, given the predicament) and was able to push and pull Emma's body onto the back seat. He didn't know if was crucial for her to be in the back and Henry in the front, or the other way around. Though, he did the best and just made it a judgmental call.

He slammed the car door shut and quickly apologized to his wife for the prudent action (he was so unaware of how his emotions were already faltering that he failed to remember that it's ok to give the door a good shut to ensure it's closed). Not once did it slip his mind that he had to return to the displeasing warehouse to retrieve Henry. However, he had to catch his breath from having to descend the rickety metal steps, salsa around puddles of glass and other questioning substances, and avoid intentional-wanting-to-harm pipes and other objects that could've hit Emma. All in all, it was quite an artful workout. Plus the fact that it was dark didn't help the least.

He was leaning heavily on the cruiser when he glanced down and saw that crimson blood soaked a bit through his chambray vest. The only way he knew of the fabric's name was cos the blonde's son actually helped him shop once, from the "disgustingly repetitive costumes", Henry worded, that the pirate always wore. _The lad must've been pissed that day from the way he worded it._

Catching his breath even more from the memory flitting in his mind, Killian looked over the blonde laying too restfully on the backseat of the cruiser. Like the quick ignition of a spark of energy, Hook pushed away from the vehicle and darted away to retrieve Henry. From the lack of a deadweight (pun intended) pinning his shoulder and agility, he needn't worry of doing the foxtrot with the questioning puddles and such to get the boy.

Again he heaved so as he tiringly ascended the stairs to attend back the annoyingly buzzing and bright fluorescent lights of what is the bathroom, or more so now the crime scene. Just seconds before he firstly saw the mother and son duo, there was nothing but a dim light. But somehow in a blink of an eye, while yelling the blonde's name it went from barely any light to "lo & behold, singeing white light". Though why is he complaining of a too bright light, while two others aren't even aware of their own state? _Petty._

Of course it didn't stop him from having to grudgingly squint as he approached it. It was basically a spotlight flashing on the mess he made, just taunting him. And damn if that someone or something wasn't doing their job right.

The lavatory was disgusting, not hurl cringing, but still very offensive. The pirate's eye did catch something evading from him, a rodent by his guess.

The temple Emma currently has her gunshot wound had made small, strokes of blood smearing a sink with a few specks showing on the wall she was resting. Glass was obviously broken and shattered in minuscule shards on the floor, it didn't go unnoticed that there was some shimmering going on both of Henry's hands, with cuts to show for it too.

Up and down, very subtly, was happening on Henry's chest. There wasn't any better description to describe the relief that flooded through Killian that the teen was still alive. But it didn't stop him from analyzing the state of the boy. His face was literally encrusted in a gore mask. Hands of his were very proudly exhibiting the raw meat, especially on his palms, that came to be. Hair was disheveled. And last but not least there was surely something peeking out of place beneath the boy's shirt. A rib must've come out of place.

* * *

 **Now...**

" ** _Blugh_**!" and down kneeled Killian as he vomited in a nearby bush.

The sour attitude he had at Joy's rude dismissal, the alcohol swishing oddly in his stomach, and the memory of seeing Henry have a dislodged rib in his side did not concoct favorably for the pirate. More than definitely the memory caused the puking.

He and the bush became quite acquainted the next few minutes while he empty the contents of his stomach.

Light headed and pale complexioned became the man as he wobbled on his legs. He rested his hook on his forehead to gain relief and contentment from the coolness that it offered. It helped a bit as he closed his eyes and relished in it.

Having continued with his disconnected staggering on the route to Snow's loft, the pirate couldn't help but think what now? He left the ship and is now in the water, so what does he do to protect Emma and keep her and his head afloat? He already had the protection being with the crew, but now as an outsider he's more than certain she's in risk of danger.

Frustratingly shaking his head he couldn't but feel disappointment take over. He was the blundering idiot, that much was true.

* * *

 **A few weeks ago…**

"Henry! Lad! Say something boy," he lightly slapped the teen's cheeks to gain something of movement. "Here now lad, do something… _please_ ," the plead seemed to do the trick since Henry's eyes fluttered some.

Killian spared no second as he configured himself to put Henry in his arms. Although, it proved to be a hassle with the broken rib the teen had. The pirate rested his hands atop his head figuring how to do this efficiently. God, why did he go along with this plan?! Every beat binned away was a small fragment of Emma's soul leaving. And that of Henry's if he didn't act now.

"Forgive me lad," he mumbled as he abruptly picked Henry up. It panged the pirate's heart hearing a sharp hiss somehow escape from the young brunette.

Since there was extra weight in his front contrary to it being loaded on his shoulder, Hook had to be at ease descending the steps of the warehouse. Alarmingly he missed a step and barely caught himself from him and Henry tumbling the rest of the way. But it didn't prevent the weird manner his body twisted against the wall connected to the stairs that kept him from falling.

Organs doing cartwheels and somersaults were playing inside the pirate from his misstep. He was honestly two seconds away from upchucking something over the young lad.

Close to nothing perceptible five feet away was now the bottom warehouse floor.

Killian—bugged eyed—is even more careful as he rounds around pipes and puddles to keep Henry safe against his frame. Weight wasn't the problem with the teen, it was his length. And of course cos some force of nature loves to make dire situations more fucked, a gust of biting air sliced its way against him and Henry now coming out the warehouse. This only caused the pirate to grind his teeth from the blasts of ice wind hitting his face while squinting his eyes. All the more making it arduous to seek the cruiser.

 _Wait, wait, wait_ , he struggled digging into his pant pocket for the car keys. He was able to press the button and hear where the cruiser was. Still it was a challenge getting there with the lad in his arms, nonetheless successful.

By time he was able to get to the hospital, it wasn't unnoted that Emma was seizing in the backseat and Henry taking ragged deep breaths from his broken rib, _or is there more than one?_

He pushed the door opened and yelled the rest of his words.

"Help! Help!" **_Beep!beep! Beeeeep!_** He blared the horn, trying to gain staff's attention.

 ** _Beep!beep!_** "Ov' here!"

Noticeably a few different color scrubs jogged over and worried what was the commotion, especially cos it was the sheriff's cruiser. In a mere matter of seconds all their eyes widened and expressions winced immensely from the two lagged bodies in the car.

Super strength must have been these scrubs' powers from the way doors lunged open on both sides. 3-4 were managing the unconscious beings in the vehicle, pulling them out while the others raced to get others' attention and equipment set.

Henry was without delay put on a gurney and hauled out while Swan was being laid atop an orange board being buckled down.

"Get me a wheelchair!" commanded a scrub.

Killian worried with his brows rising, "What, why? What is it?"

"Sir, calm down please, just—"

"Ahh! Bloody fucking hell!" He grounded out, sliding down against the car. "What the…" his words died down as he retracted his hand from his side where the pain was only then to see fresh blood sticking to his fingers. This was the blood from Emma's body, right? He looked over to the scrub attending him, already becoming more fearful seeing the alarmed expression on their face.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to stay calm. Okay? Hear my voice and solely focus on that. Can you do that for me?" the female soothed.

"What, what is it? Tell me"

"Sir, please calm down. Sir, sir—"

"Damn you to the depths! Just fucking tell me— _sshhhiiit!_ Fuck!" the pirate dipped his head targeting where the searing pain was, but noticed his shirt was lifted up by the scrub. In no time he zoned in on a transparent shard peeking out from his side with blood flowing down by the second. When did this happen?

 **~Close to an hour prior~**

 _"_ _Mmmgghrrslf"_

 _"_ _Time to get going," he grabs his rooted cane and makes to leave, but before he does…_

 _"_ _Resume"_

"Em— ** _oof_**!" Killian springs back up calling the blonde's name though, "Emma, Emma!" and is oblivious that a jagged shard of glass cleanly entered his side.

 _"_ _Emma! Emma!" Killian gasps seeing the sight before him._

 **~Cfys~**

"Take it out! Take the bloody thing _out_!" It seemed that when he was carrying Henry, his body must've pushed it in further to something vital inside the pirate. And with Killian's jittering behavior on the drive over, he had made it moved in him.

* * *

 **Now…**

"Ah! Bloody fucking Christ!" The pirate held his nose that was now gushing out cherry blood. Well, it does seem it's her favorite spot to break.

"So… boss tells me that there's some sort of righteous stick too far up your ass, and now you're out?" The theatre-masked lass crossed her arms, or actually his arms.

Killian glared at the bugger that punched him square in the face out of the blue. The young lad in front of him was finely built and would've made a nice addition to his crew back in his sea days. But—

" ** _Argh_**!" he lunged at the masked wanker to get back at him, but only managed falling flat on his face agitating his nose even more.

 ** _*Kick*_**

" _Awk_!" a sharp exhale of air leaves Hook as he's kicked full force into the stomach. Only coughs and sputters consisting of spit come out his mouth as he moans his disapproval.

He's drunk, spiteful, and is getting his ass kicked… what is there not to disapprove at?

He had a hand over his stomach, mainly where his stitches were from that one night, and breathily spoke the rest of his words. "Just on with it! **_*pants some*_** What you want?!" He seethed.

Masked-mysterio dropped down on the ground crisscross applesauce and started picking the grass then throwing it aside, letting the wind carry it, and then repeating it again. He looked at Killian, "Right… I really don't wanna be here now. Got betta thangs to do… so I'll cut to the chase." They stayed silent for a minute. "You're vital to the plan—I know, ' _awww_ ', touch my heart and weep my soul—but," they paused, "interfere with the plan the boss has then Emma comes into harm's way, yea?"

Hook didn't say anything for a bit, but the other knew what he was thinking over. "There's no way you can protect her yourself. He'll get her regardless, so sack up and do your part." They flung the teared grass at the pirates face then stood.

Brows furrowed, "Regardless?" questioned Hook.

Jay froze for a bit considering the next of his words. "…if you interfere that is. Otherwise, there shouldn't be a hair harmed on her. Oh! And continue with your phase 2," he then for real walked away disappearing along the way.

Hook used the spare key he had that went to the loft to open the paint-chipped door. Before he could though, Emma opened it and bugged at the state he's in.

"Don't worry Swan, I'll be fine."

As much as she didn't want to really touch him at the moment with Regina always on her mind, he was her husband. "Fine my ass. You're nose and black and blue and you're limping." She closed the door behind him and helped him sit. Henry, who was busy texting Jay, covertly snickered at the state of his step-father.

 _Find this hilarious, huh?_

"Ta. But I think some ice and bedrest with me lovely wife would do." He flashed a smug smile Emma's way.

Emma ignored the protest her body was trying to act on; wincing.

"Of course, of course. Here you go," she put a frozen bag of peas on the pirate's nose and tilted his head back a bit.

"Got in a fight, Hook?" Henry amused.

"Yes, Henry. Knocked a big fella twice me size in the loo."

"Mhmm." He hummed.

"…whatever," Killian muttered.

Henry continued, "What were you doing in the bathroom with another guy? Not that I'm implying but—"

"Pissin' and dissin' lad," enunciated the pirate. "I was at the Rabbit Hole drinking some, then had to urinate. Like my usual inebriated self I was rambling on of nonsense." He glanced over at Henry to see if he was satisfied with his self-humiliation. "The fella next to me gave me some trouble that wasn't necessary and I told him to sod off. He didn't like it and so threw the first punch. I stood my ground and got him but not without a few licks to show for. Champion marks I say, so."

Henry's phone buzzed alerting him a text.

 **Jay:** _what he say? How'd he get the broken nose?_ 8:57 p.m.

 **Henry:** _Nothing but bull._ 8:57 p.m.

"Not to mention but," the pirate started, "a few rascals was over by the mansion earlier and I scared them off."

"What?" voiced both Henry and Emma.

"Tried to mark the house with cans… spray cans I think they're called."

"Who were they?" asked Emma in a stern voice.

"Calm some, luv." He grabbed the blonde's hand and became a bit excited that she didn't flinch. "It just seems it's more likely since there's no resident in it."

"Oh," sighed Emma. If only they could—

"Ma…"

 _He used 'ma'… he needs me_ , _ok… stay fine_ — _no. Cool_ , thought the blonde.

"Yes, Henry?" she encouraged.

"…mm, never mind." He shook his head, it was a dumb idea.

"No, no! Tell me," she tried to reach for his hand with her other free one. One was already holding onto Killian's and squeezing slightly for another reason.

He shrugged back some but was reluctant to go on. "It's just…" he sighed. _Why dance around it?_ "I thought there could be some chance we could move back into the mansion, to you know… keep it safe?"

Both adults were gawking at the teenager before them. Different reasons it was, though.

 _Luv, say yes,_ thought Killian for his own reasons.

 _Ok, Swan. Don't sound too excited. Stay silent a few secs to seem you're thinking intently on it. God! Being with Regina's things sounds too good to be true._ She happily breathed to herself still "thinking" over the response. _How many scarves could she have? I can smell them all!_ A smile crept onto her face at the thought while ignoring how unhealthy looked.

She slowly replied keeping her composure. "I think we can talk about it."


	14. Chapter 14

_...Walk in and lift your blues..._

Jade and jaded eyes bore themselves upon two overbearing grey doors. They don't twitch, blink, or move the slightest. Said eyes' owner herself holds on to her breath; relief is constricted from releasing from Emma Swan's lips that sits in the cruiser of the station's parking lot. It would be nice to say she was thinking of anything than nothing. But the blank of the blank spaced in her mind.

Sheriff Swan brings the engine to life and swerves off as discreetly as can. Aimless driving used to be calming but there was an urge to pace—she heads straight to the border meters away from the town sign and lets her thoughts battle away while she paces parallel to the border, pivoting every few steps. It's been longer than she can admit on how long she's been out of commission for work, never mind purposefully eschewing it as well. Just so many things were happening now than to solely worry about her service as sheriff. _Well not many_ , she nods. Imperative changes in general. Only days ago she was relishing in the alleviation her token scarf had to offer along with the addition of a new friend for her and Henry. Now all of sudden they're mere boxes away from moving into Regina's mansion. _Well hey, now there's privilege to be unspeakably near Regina's personals. That's a win_.

Despite that though, it's the minuscule reasoning voice in the back of her head that's telling her otherwise. Like why the hell would she up and jump at chance to move her shit into someone's vacant—who's deceased—home and call it her own? That right there was invasive as hell and she's more than aware. The anxiety that's swelling in her is stopping at nothing to cause her to fret. Plus she's going back to work after self… inadvertent… suicide….

"God, that sounds horrible!" She bites the bed of her thumbnail and crosses her arms. Not just that too— _oh hell, what else?!_ —but the whole conviction that there was someone who actually did commit attempted murder on the sheriff wasn't going to disappear like a blemish. Fuck no siree. This shit was going to scab and bleed. Then heal cos she'll somehow tamper with the evidence to lead the other deputies and her father astray. Thus effin' bleed again cos something sprung up with promising evidence and now shit!

"We're just poking at it with a stick! Aren't we?"

Her pacing increases with worrying etching on her face minutely. She's late, she knows that. Ah screw it though, she's got pity, so nobody really expects her to be one and up with the sun. "Game plan… I need a game plan…." _Let's think how this will expectantly play out… I come in and greet the others. They show their shitty-pity faces and offer their condolences and constant queries if I'm fine to work today..._ "Which is false, of course." She reasons out with her chewed hand. _But the question is how will I handle this?_ _…like a freakin' wimp—no, no Swan! Negative thinking has not been promising lately._ Unconsciously her hand suspends around where her incision scar is. _Okay, okay… given you irrational state, don't approach this however you would. Go by someone else's demeanor._

"So… Mom? What would she do?" Her eyes set vacantly on a far point in the woods as she processes her answer _. That's stupid actually, who would shoot Mom? Shit, forget it._ She tambourines her hand to shake the thought off. What's that saying? What would Jesus do? Her weary eyes set upon the sky and just roam over the endless blue. Not much religion she can rely on, but the guy was wise, right? Righteous and truthful too, also humble…. No, no, no. Great guy, but no characteristics she felt she exempted lately, in fact the absolute opposite. She needs a 'what would... Grey do?' Like a… like a person who understands morality and virtues, but is apparently aware there's never an easy solution. Someone who knows: When at times you'll have to accommodate. Which was y'know, her, but… yeah.

"Wait! * **snaps** * Regina. What would Regina do?" _First establish I'm an idiot._ She abruptly stopped her pacing with her arms folded while biting her nail and jolting her leg. _Well, she always had confidence. And paired with confidence is ownership I guess. So…, own up to what happened and continue on like it was nothing. Wear my armor, and tear it off behind closed doors._ "But own up that I was shot…" her hand flicked back. "Not that it was self-inflicted."

 _Coward._

"Yep." Swan briskly jolts back to the cruiser and slams the door a bit harsher than anticipated. The result?

"Shit! I broke the window... will mom pay for this?" Most likely not. Yanking the door open while muttering curses for loose glass spilling over; Emma carefully steps out and backs a bit getting a good picture on the severity she caused.

"I have magic. I can fix this." Needless to say, her magic these days wasn't the speck reliable. Potency or power had nothing to do with. It was the barometer of emotions that changed course on willy-nilly whims. The sheriff was practically a walking hazard—a danger to herself and all. But what she did manage to control in these bleak Regina-less years was keeping these bawls of turmoil cupped. Armor was her entitlement. Keeping her true feelings and spite and hysteria at bay just long enough to pop it off the moment an ounce of privacy is provided was all her. That much she can take pride in.

Putting out her hands Emma screws her eyes shut and focuses on channeling the energy within her—or around her? It's been a while—to command on repairing the shattered remnants of glass back to the moderately dingy window it was. Although what is it she's supposed to zone in on? Magic is controlled by emotion, so should she feel neutral, or happy, or handyman-ish like she wants to fix something? There's no problem with the first or the latter, but that middle… is there a way to get a prescription of happy pills?

"Ok, focus." Once more she tries just focusing on the thing she's feeling most. While magic is emotion wouldn't it be wise to steer clear of—* **!** **glass shatters!** * ...anxiety?

"Aw, dammit!" Miraculously the front and back windows were intact. Those sides though.

"Forget it, I'm late" She this time slowly opens the driver's door and does same closing it.

By time she returns to the station exhaustion is already pumping in her. Resting her head on the steering wheel, she thinks back on how this will all play out.

David eyes his daughter and can't stop the churning in his stomach. He's been keeping a close eye on her movements lately back in the apartment they're cramped in. Even though he and Snow wanted to be there for Emma, they decided it's probably best to give her as much space as required. So they came up with a schedule where they both worked concurrent shifts day and early evenings. That way Emma would have the space she needed at the apartment with Henry and Hook, but every so often they would keep her company and just spend time as a family. Interactions were as normal they can get between the family, a little strenuous from the mother and son duo, although still good. Everything was good as far as it can get. Emma was still a bit closed off but welcoming to casual conversation. Also she was even showing more interest to her brother. Snow liked that. Henry…

His grandson was still on the fickle end. Albeit on the other end he was content. It was because of his new friend, Jay. Well actually him and Emma's friend. The older woman seemed to get along with the younger laid back one just as fine. David hasn't had a chance yet to have a full conversation with Jay, but from proof of the passable stability she brings on both Swan and Mills, he wasn't going to poke at it. Besides, she seemed like a nice girl. Mysterious too, he couldn't help but scratch constantly at that, but not a threat. If be, maybe with time he and Snow can be on the inside like she is with the other two.

Charming beelines over where the sheriff is—who's subtly thumping her head against the steering wheel—and knocks on — _what the…?_ — forget it. Instead he bends over and peers into the glassless window watching her for a few seconds before interrupting. "Rough day already?" he raises his arm to shield the sunshine from his eyes.

Emma, with the ball of dread abruptly sinking in her from the unexpected intrusion, shoots straight up and sees her father who's eye-level to her. "Uh yeah," she flushes. "Just jittery behavior… like back-to-school nerves, y'know?"

"I wish I could say, it's hard to recall. Does wedding day jitters count?"

Ease ebbed into her from her father's response. "I wouldn't know, but yeah I guess…"

"Sweetheart, Hook?"

"What? Where?" She dismayed trying to see if her husband was... "Oh, right." She looks down at her ring finger that's dazzling a gemstone ring. "Forgot"

David stepped back opening the door for her. "How can you forget you're married?"

"You don't?" She countered while getting out.

"Eh… with someone like your mom, it's hard to try."

 _Well, you aren't married to Hook_ , "I bet it is. Think she'll help and pay for this?" she nods over at the cruiser.

"Want to tell me how that came to be first?" He slams the—

" _No, wait! Don't_ —"

* **!** **glass shatters!** *

The blonde drops her head in defeat. David, awestricken, rounds to the back of the cruiser not believing the sheet of glass just there now shattered to sharp and cloudy jags.

"Right, I'll just…" sidling her way out Swan slips behind the station's grey doors.

Around the corner she is from facing her co-workers again this time really considering making a dash for it. What halted her were undiscerned murmurs happening steps from where she is.

"Do you think she'll like the banner? I don't think we should do the banner. No banner right? We're going bannerless people!"

 _Mom…?_

"Of course we should do it; I put all my creativity and effort in it."

Snow gasped, "Lies! You were all nay to the idea of it."

"Yeah well although I don't fully agree on it I think it would be cool for Emma to see my artistic ability."

Another voice pulled in, "Guys I got her office all tidied up. Files chronologically placed, the new chair, the right amount of sunlight coming through the drapes—"

"You added drapes?" A grunted voice came, Leroy.

"Snow insisted on it," replied Ruby. "I thought it was a good idea too in case she gets a migraine…"

Tink butted in, "Wait do you think chronological is the way to go? What if she prefers by color order?"

"Oh! So because you Picasso-ed on the banner means you're an expert on color coordination?"

"They're all vanilla folders sister…"

"No, no. Snow bought a whole array of different colored folders. And to answer your question Snow: No. But everyone has their preferences," sassed the fairy.

"Hold up, hold up, hold up!" Ruby motioned. "...where is the broom? The cells need to be spotless in case she wants to lie down or take a nap." Footsteps were heard, probably in search of the broom.

"God, Ruby! She's not an invalid!"

"No, Ruby's right. My baby needs all the care she can get."

A furious blush crosses Emma while she awkwardly looks at the wall beside her.

The dwarf scolds, "You guys need to stop getting your panties in a wad. Let's just all act natural when she comes in and keep it normal. Normalcy is what's best right now."

"That… that is probably the most reasonable thing Leroy has said all day."

"…not to mention all week…"

"Look sister, it's not knowledge. It's knowing Emma."

"Which requires knowledge. Also paired with contribution. So what have you done to make her feel welcomed?"

"Easy-peasy…," bottles can be heard clinking.

"Oh hell no!" shrieks Ruby.

"Oh hell yes!" exclaims Tink.

"No, no, no. Put that away Leroy. You are not going to give my daughter beer on her first day back."

He fights back, "Or what? A banner and a flowery smelling office is the way to go? Pft!"

"I got her balloons…"

David rounds the corner looking at a notepad and twiddling a pen in his hand. "Right, so I estimated the cost for repairs of the windows and…" He came to her side and looked at her then what she was blanking at, "Ay… how much have you heard?"

"Of you or them?"

"Yep that 'bout sums it. Let me just give them a warning so they won't embarrass themselves."

"Anymore then they have?" She grabs his arm. "How about I just walk in and have the upper hand for once? See them scurry a bit."

David mulls over it for a sec then agrees. "I'll come in after you."

And so Emma Swan walked straight in where she saw four wonderful startled faces. Eyes bulging and silent; this is what she wanted. Though Leroy was the first to break the shock, "Beer?" he offered.

Snow swatted him. "Emma, honey I'm so glad you're here," she came in for a hug.

"Here cos you're my boss or genuine happiness?"

"Well of course the latter sweetheart," she squeezed her arms. She was going to say more until Tink spoke up.

"Well I'm for both. I missed your presence here Swan."

"Thanks Tink, and great job on the banner." Tink instantly brightens up while Snow rolls her eyes.

Ruby pipes up, "How much have you heard?"

"Enough to know I can take a nap in a clean cell whenever I like… and I got a new chair."

"So everything?"

"Not quite!" quirks Snow. "We got a whole fresh batch of bear claws and donuts for you from Granny's. Right, David?"

Said man instantly flusters, "Right, um… yes! I will go get them, which are in my car." His legs backtracked. "So uh, stay."

Snow pinched the bridge of her nose shaking her head. "He forgot them… I knew I should have—"

"Mom, relax. It was a nice gesture, honestly. I can wait for them."

"Ready to start some crime fighting again, Sheriff?" asks Ruby.

"You bet. And with all good crime fighting deals paperwork, so what we got?"

Ignoring the professionalism of their jobs, all three co-workers threw their heads back petulantly groaning on the one thing they share to hate, unlike Snow though, who giddies at the mentioned paper load. Surely Emma would be willing to drop them off herself at her office where they can chat and have lunch. Pure mother and daughter time, she happily sighed.

"Emma, dear, is there anything you need help with to get settled? I certainly don't mind if you need me here today sweetheart." She touched her daughter's arm to show her affection.

Swan became stiff at the thought that her mother would be here to monitor her all day, along with her dad. One parent is enough, and although she cherishes them she's not in the mood to speak much than required. It's just like that some days: one day she's smiling and feeling something of normalcy, the next she's a brooding cloud wishing she can stay in bed all day. Begrudgingly her day is bordering on the latter.

"No, that's okay. You go and run the town, I got it handled here."

Snow hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah." She offers a tight lip smile. "If it makes you feel better I'll ring you in if anything comes up."

"That includes talking."

"No, yeah. Of course that can be included."

"It wasn't a question. Call me if you need anything, got it?"

"Got it." With that Snow shuffled out leaving her daughter be for the day.

 _Well that's a weight lifted. Still gotta deal with dad though..._ "Right!" She looked squarely at her team feeling some ounces of settlement within her. Maybe being productive will keep her dampening moods at bay. Hell, maybe she can actually have a good day. "I heard someone say they had balloons for me?"

Tink proudly beams, "Nah… what I meant covertly was helium. Couldn't downright say that to your mum though."

"You want to get high during work?"

"I want to get _helium-ed_ after work. I got respect for my job still."

"And drunk. I wanna get drunk," chimes Leroy.

"You always want to get drunk Leroy," Lucas rolls her eyes and heads over to her desk pushing some papers out the way. "So, right to it so we can 'adult' later… There have been some petty thefts lately. Nothing high, just the natural." She hands Emma some reports.

"Lost boys?" she looks over at Tink.

"Only just. Some are regular rascals too. They've been defacing property as well."

"Yeah, you don't say. Killian said something about them tagging the mansion. Know anything about that?" she looks expectantly at them.

They all shift on their feet before gaining ground again, Leroy giving the details, "You got us there. But we'll track and sack 'em."

"Just _f_ _ind_ ," corrects Ruby. "We'll find them Emma." She holds her friend's gaze longer than needed.

 _Is she trying to convey something?_ "'Kay then…. So that's all? Petty crime and property defacement?"

"Actually…" Tink rocks on her feet, "it's probably best we set up a town hearing since we haven't done that in a while. Let folks ask their questions, and display you out to show everything's fine."

"Why what's wrong?" Emma makes her way in her office sitting in her new chair. _Oh shit, this feels amazing, and swivels so smoothly._

The other three follow her in with Leroy leaning in a corner and the other two women taking seats. But only edging on them as if they rather bolt.

"Nothing…" shies Ruby, "Just…" she takes an interest in her hands all of sudden.

Tink also stays quiet, but it's once again Leroy to dish out the info. By his rigid stance and drop of tone, it must be unsavory, "Just that the whole town heard of your accident, including Henry's. So not only are they frightened there's a murderer on the loose, but also that there are jumpers ready to pounce on them or their children like what happened to your boy."

The image of a blood masked Henry flashed in the blonde's mind only causing her face to blanch. It's been what? Two months since her and Henry's accident? On one note it felt like a lifetime ago. And because of the occasional company of Jay and sometimes Emma's deputies along with her and Henry trying to bond again, it seemed dreary on thinking that she capped herself. That would only bring depressing thoughts. On the other note, it's no help to feel it was that long ago with everybody else thinking there's a potential killer running around having the gall to pop someone like the Savior. Her and… Killian, she apprehends—though she will not ask him—know the truth.

"Yes, ok. Um Tink go ahead and set that hearing up. And Ruby, think you can step in and be my director of communications? I would if I could, but I don't think I'm up to writing something, let alone wing it and placate the town."

"You got it!" Both woman nod off and respectfully begin their assigned tasks.

"Anything special for me boss?" asks Leroy.

"See if you can round up the names of those who were tagging Regina's mansion. I want a good overview of their backgrounds and if they ever rammed horns with the station."

"Got it. And you? You'll be fine?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just hand in any papers needing my approval and don't be afraid to give me a shout if anything happens in the streets. Except Ms. Sonya, I don't want to deal with her."

"Tell me about it." He then lets the Sheriff be.

 _Whew! That felt… nice._ Emma felt back in her element and it was more than refreshing. House arrest was a doozy, not that she was actually obligated to stay in the apartment, but she wasn't obligated to condone stares and whispers about her and Henry either. He was right, though, when she found him in that warehouse; hearsay here is annoying as hell, mostly if you're the sheriff or just in general in the Charming family. She doesn't know how Henry dealt with it.

"Oh, crap!" Her hand scoops up the phone and begins dialing the school's number. She remembers when she was released out the hospital that the school called, her parents answering, and recalling the school wishing their condolences and giving Henry all the time he needs to recuperate before he's ready to return. Also remembering her and Henry agreeing they'll both go back to the real world at the same time. He must've knew it benefitted him more than her given she was shot. His injuries were gruesome too and no need to dismiss traumatization for the both, but on some level he had to know that because she got shot that she'd be more unnerved than him. Well, she is and isn't—though that isn't his business.

The phone picks up with the office's secretary answering. "Yes, StoryBrooke High, how can I help you?"

"Uh, hi!" her parent voice drones in. Something like 'I care about my kid, but eat my shorts' to sum it up. Some calls required her authoritative sheriff voice, some just herself, and others she didn't care too much about. "This is Emma Swan calling here to regard of my son, Henry. Is there any way I can speak to the principal right now?" For sure no enthusiasm to speak to her again.

"Sheriff Swan! Oh, how lovely it is to hear your voice again. I hope you and your son had a relaxing recovery?"

"Yes, we did." she tightly smiles, leaning on her desk now. "So, the principal?"

"Oh, of course. Let me phone her in." The dial tone goes flat momentarily. Emma's eyes roam over her desk and the rest of her office. No kidding when Ruby was intent on things being tidy and nice when she herself arrived. Usually that was a Mary-Margaret thing, but Rubes had some qualities she shared with her mother. Even though she and Emma were good friends, Ruby was more of a cool aunt at times.

"Hello?" answers someone from the other line.

"Uh, yes, hi. This is Henry's mother calling."

"I know. It is truly great to hear your voice again Ms. Swan."

Emma's hand tightly coils around the handle of the phone while the other grips with dear life on her desk. Her nostrils flare with a harsh gust of air releasing and jade eyes squeezing shut for a moment. She's as stiff as a board letting the next of her words be enunciated and precise. "Please, Sheriff Swan or Emma will do just. I prefer it that way, ok?"

The principal squabbles realizing her screw up. "Y-yes! Oh, my dearest apologies Ms— I mean Sheriff Swan! Please forgive me."

Emma's whole demeanor deflates becoming lacked like it always has, but still she keeps her eyes softly closed and changes the tone of her voice dramatically to soothe the other woman. "No, no." she shakes her head. "It's not your fault, you forgot. I understand." The last thing she needs is for others to quiver and bow to her like she's a monarch when she loses her temper. Much like a certain brunette…

"Thank you, Emma." The line stays hushed for a beat. "You were calling about Henry, if I may?"

"Yes, yes." Swan pinches the bridge of her nose leaning back in her new chair. "It's about his re-enrollment… er, I guess his return. He's returning the beginning of next week; I wanted to give you a heads up.

"Indeed. We cannot wait for his return. I'll notify the school and personally his teachers."

"Great. Also…" she took a peek out on her co-workers floor. Everyone was to their own devices. She lowered her voice, "Um… a few things. First, I would really appreciate it if you and his teachers keep an eye out on him. He disclosed with me bullying issues he's encountered, the jump being the massive of them all."

"Yes, we're right on top of that. Our main focus for the following months is anti-bully awareness for elementary and high school. There will be plenty of education on this for the staff and students so it's a safe environment. Unfortunate tragedy it was for Henry, especially Tob—..."

 _Well hot damn. That was unexpected and fast._ "Good… good. I'm glad to hear." She didn't interpret the last of what the principal said, probably nothing. "And I know this is kind of a far stretch and not my business, but I think it's known that Henry is sort of a loner… and so I was wondering if there was a Jay Bexton attending your school, and if so that somehow they have most of their classes sync up? She and Henry have been bonding some time now and I think it would benefit him to have a true friend in class, Sooo..." She absolutely feels like she's stepping out of bounds here, but it's for Henry's best interest. _This is what actual mothering must feel like._

"I'd be happy to check for you," the principal responded, her voice hinting something. Immediately following were fast taps and a few clicks.

Emma was just sitting in her comfy chair feeling incongruous with her eyes looking at the fluorescent lights above her.

"Unfortunately there is no Jay Bexton in our attendance…. But I would be happy to meet with her parents to enroll her in so she can be paired with Henry. Can you set this up?"

"Erm… uh… yeeeaa. Positively. I'll get that down."

"Thank you Emma. We cannot wait to welcome Henry back and hopefully meet a new student. Not to mention we have a new guidance counselor with us."

"Really?" perked Emma.

"Why, yes! A Mr. Ahijah al-Barmaki…"

"Well can I have Henry see him on a weekly basis?" _This might actually help Henry, maybe open to himself up more._

"Of course, I'll set that up. Will that be all?"

"Yes,"

"Actually—"

"Bye." _Click._

A deep sigh escapes from her as she drearily wipes her face. Ok… how could she not know of Jay's parents first of all? Second, a counselor for Henry… he will more than likely resent this. That will definitely set a bump in the road. Third, that bullying awareness thing… _wow_. Talk about StoryBrooke getting with the times. And fourth, _where the hell did this chair come from?!_

Emma decides to take a little break and swivel round repetitively in her chair like any ordinary human. Calling the school about Henry got her feeling so useful that she thinks she will actually go and patrol out for a bit. Getting some air would be nice and maybe dropping by the apartment seeing how Henry's doing. Thinking about it though, she should probably disclose her move with her deputies. They do care about her and Henry and are considered family, regardless of her erratic behavior and wishes to be alone.

"Hey guys?" her voice rose. "I can trust that what I'll tell y'all won't leave this room?"

Contrary to how diligent they were to their work, at chance all three sprung and practically sprinted for the sheriff's office, Leroy closing it behind him, and resuming their spots from before.

"What's up boss?" asks Tink.

"I'm just Emma right now, and I want to know your opinions about something."

"Ok, shoot"

Blood drains abruptly from Emma's face from that word. She hurriedly regains herself.

"Well recently Henry had just asked if he, well we—him and Killian and I—can move into Regina's house. I mean, it is his, it's in the deed and he could have it all to himself turning 18. But I guess he has some trust that we can all live there and I'm wondering if it's a good idea to."

Leroy starts, "What do you think?"

"I think yes. It'll be good for him—"

"And you?" interrupts Ruby.

Emma shifts, "For both of us. I think we can both gain some form of definite closure from this. Of course with full respect from Hook and me towards the mansion. You know boundaries and all."

Ruby continues, "Do you see yourself staying there forever?"

"No. Whenever Henry is ready to have it to himself. I'm sure Hook and I can find something on our own."

"You're sure Henry's intent on having Hook there as well? Like, that's big…" rings Tink.

"It is, I agree. I made certain if he stood absolute, especially since we know his indulgence to Hook…"

"Indulgence?" Outbursts Leroy. "I'm still waiting for the day to come of him wailing on your husband's ass. Probably set fire to him."

"Leroy!" scolds Ruby.

"Nah," remarks Tink, "at least a good fist fight. I've seen contempt in that boy's eyes…" she shakes her head. "And not just towards Hook, sadly everything. Strangers, family, towards you Emma… he even gave me the stink-eye once. Nearly pissed myself." She crosses her legs with Ruby rubbing her shoulder.

"What we're trying to say Emma is that if you and especially Henry are on board its fine. But keep your eyes out between Hook and Henry. Something's bound to brew up between them. The older he gets, the bolder he is."

"So basically sister," Leroy advised, "get him to set those restrictions on the mansion so your husband won't intrude"

Tink absentmindedly says, "Men, they hate their stuff being tampered with."

"Misandrist?" butts in Leroy.

"No. You just haven't seen those Lost boys go batshit crazy when a toothbrush goes missing."

Emma can't believe what she just heard. Basically she got the easiest A-OK for her and Henry to move into the mansion with no worries tainting the place. But instead gets a full on warning to look out between a Henry and Hook fight impending in the future. Queasiness doesn't even begin the qualms her stomach is beginning. Fuck. So much soberness is going to be needed for this.

"So… just to make sure, I'm not like disrespecting Regina or anything?"

"Mm… no." Says Ruby, "You can handle yourself, and as long as it makes Henry fairly happy. I guess that's all we want really."

"Yeah," exclaims Tink with a hand resting on her head like she's been through something. "Cos if he's bleak, everything is. No offense, Emma."

She shakes her head, "None taken. He is the truest believer and the author."

"Yeah," pipes Leroy. "That alone should make his heart all rainbow-ish and shit."

"Mhmm," hums Rubes.

"Yeah, well," blows Emma swiveling again, "there's this new counselor at his school. Henry will go see him on a daily; hopefully this will cause some positive outcomes."

"Ooh! You mean that handsome tan guy with the cane?" asks Tink.

"Huh?"

"Oh, well I've seen him once or twice at the school. This one time with a red-faced pudgy man with this odd looking hat. And this other time, though it could be the same, with a real pretty miss about his color."

Emma perked in her seat all ears listening now. "Jay? That's the girl Henry and I been hanging with. That could be her father actually."

"Maybe. What's his name?"

Ruby chuckles, "And what? Ask him on a date?"

Tink flushes. "Oh c'mon! I'm the only single one here. It's not easy when there's a tab of Lost boys to keep at hand."

Empathy springs out for Tink from Emma. She reaches out to take her hand real quick, "And we know that Tink, we're sincerely thankful for you taking that up."

Leroy grunts his agreeance and Ruby hums rubbing her arm. "Also," goes Emma, "when's the last time you got laid?"

"Ohhhh!" The whole room goes.

Right then David knocks on the door giving a jump scare to everyone with his out-of-the-blue appearance and overly smiling face. Even poor Leroy is pressing against the wall for dear life.

"Oh shit David!" breathes Ruby holding her chest.

"I actually think I pissed myself," adds Tink.

The blonde calls out. "Come on in Dad," and tries to steady her heartrate as well.

"Hey guys, anything interesting going on?" he takes stand next to Leroy.

"Not much," says Emma. "Got those pastries though?"

"Ah, yes!" He goes to the main floor real quick and comes back with pastries.

Emma hums he approval, "Smells like love in the air." She takes a bear claw with the others helping themselves. "Ruby, your grandmother is going to get me fat…"

"With how famished you look? I actually think that's her goal now. She's supposed to bring something over to you later." She bites into her donut.

"Well keep 'em comin'" she stuffs.

"So!" began David. "Did you guys give her the overview of the case?"

Swan's mouth smacks from the dough in it. "Wa' case?"

The gorging the deputies were doing on their donuts instantly diminishes to quiet nibbles with eye aversions.

"What?" she nudges.

"We thought you give her the news," goes Ruby.

David blows out a breath and wipes at his stubble. "Right, show or tell?"

"Show."

"Tell."

"Both. I choose both," sours Tink. "One alone isn't enough."

Emma lowers her bear claw from her mouth and peers at her work family.

"Emma, just stay there. Leroy, help with the bulletin?" He nods over, Leroy following him. Not long they both enter in with an average sized bulletin/whiteboard. The whiteboard side she earlier saw and paid no mind to it. That bear claw isn't digesting too easily now. If it turns out what's it's going to be, Emma hopes her father at least adds some flair to make it entertaining and tolerable.

"Ahem." In a snap her carefree yet knightly father adopts the posture of a dedicated soldier and demeanor of an austere leader. If not for the actual shepherd background, his would've been presumed someone who went to Afghanistan. "Your whole family and friends are devoted and harsh on intent with the identity of your attacker—almost killer." He gave intense nod, like that sums it up in perfect words. "So we've been working hard with any bit of information we can get and it includes this."

He showed a covered bulletin with pictures of the warehouse, photos of the crime scene, and statements from some people on it. It even had some yarn tagging over, giving it an authentic feel.

Swan—who bit her bear claw—choked on spot, startling up. " _What?!_ "

"Don't worry; we're trying to track Henry's attackers as well."

No, that's not what she was worrying about at all—which she should've been—but far from.

She thought she had time to come up with something. "Where'd you get all this?"

"Well technically with those unfortunate past deaths, we've gotten pretty good taking legit forensic pics." Tinkerbell factually said.

"Yeah…" agrees Leroy nodding, his voice lightening, "I'm actually proud of us."

"See the statements?" Pointed out Ruby, "Me and David took those."

 _What..._

A slight trembling hand rakes her hair.

 _Dafuq?_

"Uh… um… what… wh-who's in charge of this?" She sorts out swaying her hands, like she can't hold how much information they gave.

Charming easily answered, "Well that would be me."

"..."

"We were also biased if you should be included in the case or just stay victim, but we agreed if you're hard on intent catching them like us, then good."

"...⟃_⟄" is Emma's definite response.

 **Later**

In a ⅚ windowless patrol car, sulking, and all alone is an Emma Swan.

She sits on the passenger side watching her father climb up a ladder trying to coo down Ms. Norbert's cat.

Different cat-lady.

A heavy breeze flows in all pathways of the cruiser and prickles Emma's skin more than necessary. She feels completely withdrawn from this world and is on cloud-9 paranoia; bordering to dysphoria. Time… is inescapable of course, but she thought she had some. Thoughts like there were gaps in her caprice to finagle this mess she made—the suicide-attempt-almost-succession-but-kind-of-still-succession that is. She reasoned that since Regina was actively there with her, kicking her ass and all, that she did die. It's as simple as that, she thinks.

Admittedly though that's not what's getting to her. She has Regina's scarf to thank for relieving her nerves. It was like her addiction. Actually, it is. But what keeps her insides swaying as a leaf blowing in the wind is on who figured that her near death wasn't what it's supposedly is? _Million dollar question right there._ That it was an act of weakness and confusion and loathing. If her parents knew— _if Henry knew_ , it would ruin her. The cowardice award would be bestowed from Rumpel to her in front of everyone. She would be seen as something squalid, something exterrestrial because who does that? Who goes and kills themselves assuming right there in their lap that their child is well gone, so why not themselves? What only makes it repugnant is that Henry would've been fine but burdened with the news that his other—his only—actual parent is gone; fucking dead. He's a smart, intuitive well off kid and Emma couldn't be more proud of him regardless of his pissy moods and sardonic remarks, but he can't handle this fairytale bile himself. She can barely and she's supposedly the Savior, everyone's hero. How is that fair? How is it fair that her body would have been found with the gun perfectly slack-gripped in her hand only for Henry to assume that she truly didn't love him? Because that's how he's going to see it. That, what she thinks, is going to be tattooed, carved, and singed all over her body inside and out; UNLOVING MOTHER/WOULD RATHER DIE. _God, that's ugly!_

Emma grimaces her face shaking her head in denial.

She can't do that; she can't have anybody searching for the truth, least of all Henry. Going to hell and back _again_ would be easier than unleashing that can of locusts. Not to mention her hell-and-back husband knowing what actually happened that night.

"Fuck!" she shivers tremendously from the harsh wind and thought.

No way is she going to ask her husband about that night. Hell, he didn't even bring it up, and she almost left him! The man she went to rescue from the mess she made and her difficulties of saying goodbye for, she almost left. And for what? To supposedly go be a happy family in a field of daisies with Regina and her son? _Yeah, great fucking excuse Emma._

Nice, she scoffs; she's doing what she constantly did since Her majesty's death: berating herself.

Looking out the window to her left, she's not reminded of her pathetic reflection highlighting the imperfection she is. However that doesn't really help with the rearview mirrors above and beside her. Sometimes the quiet is violent, and she cannot stand it for another moment. Agitation and uneasiness are concocting within her and she desperately needs to expel it out. She needs something physical… like a run, those sporadic runs she do. Or maybe sex? _They release endorphins_ … is as far she will think, not even approaching whom she'll have to do that with. Booze and possibly hysteria will need to mix for there being a chance to think of Hook as Regina again. Shit, what was she even thinking then? _Fuck!_ What is she thinking now?

 _Oh fuuuck…_ she breathes out raking both her hands through her hair. "It's been what? Close to 2 months? We're bound to do it again…"

Having a game plan won't even work. Hook is usually insatiable always wanting to enact physical relations with her. Sometimes she can ignore it, shut it down. Other times she gives in; moreover, he just had a way to make her forget. To forget that their marriage is practically a sham but instead it's that spark of something they both noticed in the beginning and wanted to explore. More often than not she gets it over with to resume her sulking and bleak life. Sure, she can buy herself more time due to her accident; Hook took pity on her a bit more now (although it feels like he's patronizing her) and can be celibate longer. But it's bound to rise up clasping with temptation, sneaking up again, consuming her. _Or good ol' guilt._ Since she did actually… almost… left him.

Back on train of thought of her suicide now, great.

Emma peers out the glassless window again checking on the status of her father and the Norbert cat though sees nothing. She sticks her neck out looking both ways for him still coming up with nada. Where did he—

"Hey, Sheriff!"

"Oh shit— _ah!_ Damn it!" she grinds out rubbing the back of her head.

"Yeah… reacted the same too when the curse broke." Granny gave.

"Which one?"

Granny stares ahead, "The one I can't remember a damn thing about a thing."

Emma clicks her tongue. "So all of them."

"Sounds 'bout right. So listen child, I got two things for you." She gestures to a bag from her diner. "First—"

"Food?" brightens Emma. Next to friends and family comes food that'll uplift her spirits some. "You don't disappoint."

"Have I ever?" she hands the bag through the driver's side window. "Also…"

"Hmm?" Already Swan is digging into a container of fries.

"I got a statement"

"Yeah… what for?"

"For your case. I think I've seen someone in my diner that looked like they cap one off. "

Ketchup squirts out the packet Emma directs her flinch into. So now there's five broken windows and ketchup on the ceiling of the car.

She needs to go at this like the authoritative figure she is. Sack up. (Taking the useless statement, not owning up to what she did)

"Um, yeah ok. Let me just…" she takes out a scrap of paper and finds a pencil. "Ok. Name?"

"Really?" The older woman looks over her glasses.

"No… it's fine. I got it." She writes 'Granny'.

"Right then, it happened not long ago, maybe this week, when I took this man's order."

"Man?"

"Why yes! Didn't you get a good look at him?" She does that intense stare again.

Poor subtly-fidgeting Emma shakes her head. She wants to go home now. Wants the day to be over so she can get helium-ed and drunk and tell Henry goodnight then unravel herself under her sheets. Maybe even let her husband hold her, just to be anchored to something.

"Well do you recall him being short?"

"Um, no? Average… average height I believe."

Granny's face glooms. "Shoot!"

The sheriff cringes.

"That'll do no good. The guy I saw was pretty stout."

"Really?" feigns Emma. "What did he look like? You know, just so I can cross check him," she shrugged.

"Ok. A bit short, red in the face like a teapot, portly and uh… those y'know?" She waved to both sides of her face close to her ears.

"Sideburns?"

The older woman nods her head. Emma jots it down already thinking of something to do with this info. "Have you ever seen him before?"

"No. Fairly new to me I guess. Then again there are some others in this town I probably never encountered. Even if it's a small town, Regina surely made it pretty big."

"Right you are. I'll go check this out with David."

"You have a good day you hear? And tell Henry he gets one on the house."

"I will. Thanks Granny," Emma nodded.

Only thing blinking in her mind is not giving this lead to David. Speaking of whom, where is—

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Oh! ssshhhrapnel," she clutched her chest. "You need to stop sneaking up on people like that!"

"Sorry," he empathized. "When I got the cat down it fled from me. So what's up? Was that Granny?" He started the engine.

Emma covertly balls the piece of scrap in her hand. "Nothing new. She was just saying hi and giving me this," she acclaimed to the takeout.

"Oh, ok. So listen…" he pulled the car out. They were on the road again. "I'll need to ask you some questions about that one night… and I'm not keen on holding it off. We'll do it at the station, if you're still up for it, 'kay?"

 _God no! I'm not okay with this._

In response she just shoves fries in her mouth.

 **Later**

Faded.

From start of the day Emma Swan has gone through the usual toll of emotions that she's familiar with, only peace "Psh!" and quiet can offer their truest glory… (Drink)

"Alright… what's another cliché thought?" she huffed out. _Everything is going to be ok._ (Drink)

A commercial from the Bug's radio plays while her thoughts are elsewhere: _Do you know somebody with anxiety and repeatedly going over thoughts? Who's impassive? Maybe they exempted mood swings, broken sleep patterns, fatigue, dramatic weight gain or loss, and/or is agitated and irritable often? Well they might be depressed. Depression is no joke._

"Henry and Hook will not get in a fight." (Double sip, Drink)

 _Ask your doctor if Xyaphronipiq is right for you_ …

"I can cover this case up." (Drink)

 _Pregnant women, druggie heads, and anyone under 23 and 7 months should not take Xyaphronipiq…_

"Ok, one more…," she swigs from the beer bottle she snuck from Leroy back at the station. _Regina… will come back… We'll have our happy ending…_ (Drin—)

Henry raps on the Bug's window squinting in, "Ma?"

Following was the out of the blue jump Swan's heart did. Emma switches the lock off signaling Henry to take a seat in the car, chugging the little left in her bottle and fixing her appearance. There wasn't anything Henry hasn't seen, but still she's his mother. Having rolled down the window, the blonde internally prepared herself for the scowl her son was just itching to give her.

No, literally she can see him squirming and looking to and fro from the beer bottle to her.

"Go ahead, say it," she pushed. It was no joke when she thought of the toll of emotions that ran through her today. First it was anxiety, then surprise from her deputies, next a bit of relief—those two "I got my life together" seconds—then came the fall with lots of jitteriness and dread. Feeling like a piece of shit from Henry wasn't written in for today, but she's a bit faded from today's hoorah, so what.

Henry just stares at his mother and with his might shoves away the scowl he wants to give her. Instead, he just shrugs. "So?"

This catches Emma off, "Huh?"

He rolled his eyes, "So…? How did it go today?"

"Um…," she drawls, "fine? Like… yeah, no. Everything went fine I guess."

He cocked his head letting a little quiet seep between them _._ Hopefully Emma had no quarrels with dumbasses today, he thinks. _Hopefully Emma didn't act like one…._ He knew that was ill to think, but he had seen her have cat troubles once or twice before, so. "How'd you like your new chair?" he then broke.

"Chair…? Oh, yeah! It was really comfortable." Her shifts, "I meant to ask where it was from."

"Mom." he easily answered.

"What? I'm right here." said she waving to herself.

He harshly sighs, "No, Emma. _Mom._ Regina," a wince follows his words. Weird calling his mother by her actual name. "Do you even care?"

Before she could answer, that faintness she was experiencing forthwith smacked into a wall. Realization dawned to her that it was indeed Regina's chair that was in her office now. Now with that out the way, "Of course I care! For you and her—definitely. So don't say crap like that. Alright?"

His head turns away, "Yeah… fine, sorry. Did you guys find your assaulter?"

She really wishes that fade would come back now. "Um, no. We got a lead though… but um," she swallows, "did you talk to David about that one night? Gave him any information for the case I mean?"

Henry reaches for the nape of his neck and says, "Yeah. Just… he's rather a bully."

"What? Did he hurt you?"

"No, no. Just keep an eye on him. He's really serious on catching the douche, but just…," he shook his head. Moreover that's one of the reasons Henry despises him a bit.

Emma, on the other hand, is perplexed by this. Her father doesn't abuse his power, does he? She thinks of any other times he seemed aggressive but can't recall it. It actually seems a bit redundant. "Really? He's hell bent finding your jumpers too."

"...whatever…" he turns his head. It's not like she would listen to him.

"By the way," she starts. This is a good time to inform him of school, also a distraction from herself and her dilemma. "You got school next week, so…."

Henry sucks his teeth. Can't complain much really, he and Emma had a deal.

"Also _that_ ," she points to his hair, "needs a cut and more. I want it just black again."

Still silent. Either he silently agrees on some level, or really doesn't want to complain on something petty.

"And…" _oh god, Emma,_ she thinks while inhaling a nerve wrecking breath. This will make or break her… who is she kidding? She'll break cos well… see here. "You will go and see the new counselor on a daily."

" _WHAT?!_ "

She winces vastly. _Hello, Henry's wrath._ Like dead-mother like son. Well—

"I thought it would be good for you," she reasoned.

"Well obviously you don't know anything about me!" erupted he. "Why… why would you do that? I don't have issues."

 _Mm._ "I thought—"

"You thought of shit!" he blew out. "Huh? Shit. Pure utter shit."

 **Honk!** goes the horn as she smacks it channeling her fury. Emma turns so fast in her seat she might've got whiplash. "NO! Your attitude is shit! I'm tired of… Of… _dealing_ with it! I am the adult here; you're mother and you will abide by what I say! You're going back to school. You're getting your hair cut—"

"But—"

" _Shut up!_ " she hissed. "Keep it the length you want, I don't care, but I want the dye out. Got it?"

"…yeah...," Henry lamed.

"And we're both going to counseling…"

"But you just said—"

"I know what I said, but you're getting double! School and Archie. That's final. I'm done with secrets and loathing being held between us. You wanted a fresh start, a fresh fucking start we get. Yay." she jazzed her hand.

Naturally he slouches and tries to avert his attention elsewhere. For the sake of Emma not hinting his disappointment he sassed. "Fine. Oh by the way: I hate your husband."

"Uh-huh. Save that for the counseling." Up and out the car she does, leaving her disappointed son to his own irritability and thoughts. Getting hammered and heliumed sounds about nice right now.


	15. Chapter 15

**Moving day…**

New opportunities arising, a new atmosphere settling, exciting things humming away filling yourself and others with possibilities that weren't thought of often due to the current, ho-hum residency you stayed in, all of it welcoming. Yay!

[-.-]

"Strangle me."

"C'mon Henry, it's only a few more boxes, don't be a wimp." Jay sat at the bottom of the loft stairs thinking over what the chalk outline of that one jackass's body would look like that she offended some time ago.

"Says the one doing nothing"

Jay shrugged, "Not my place."

"You can help."

"I am"

"How?"

"Motivating: I beweeve in you!"

"…you suck…"

"Lollipops"

"What?"

"I suck lollipops. It's rather normal since that's what supposed to be done. Why you hating? Spit deficiency?" She quirked her head to playfully imply her words.

"Ugh," he rolled his eyes for not having a comeback. He looked at her expectantly gesturing to the too big box in his hands and nodding toward the steps.

Jay smirked at Henry as she made her whole body take the bottom step, making it impossible for him to pass. She took out her phone and started playing Candy Crush.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat catching the other woman's drift.

Jay feigned innocence, "Oh, huh? Need more motivation remarks?"

"What I need from you is to move so I can pass…"

"Tell me I'm the most beautiful gal you've ever seen," she cheekily smiled at him.

"Hmph." He huffed. "You're the most beautiful gal I have seen… in the land of Ooo"

Her attention from the game was snatched from his comment, "What?"

"Oh, yea, yea…" he replied and teased. "I mean, the princesses are nicer out of the wretched hags, but I guess you can be in that category, too. Above the hags I mean." He smirked at her slack jaw.

"Hotdog princess is above me?!" She screeched while sitting upright again.

"Definitely," he smiled and tried to pass through the narrow opening.

Balancing the box in his hands he also attempted to kick Jay in the thigh while going down. But she somehow found a way to hit the back of his leg, causing him to break down and lose balance. Ongoing it went of both youngsters kicking and hitting the other trying to prevent either from continuing their task. Or rather Jay preventing Henry from packing.

"Ah, dammit Jay," Henry chuckled as he made his way through, but not without Jay getting the last kick, literally pushing Henry on his bottom with her foot causing him to stumble. All of it the more fun.

Killian was arranging the boxes in the pickup David let them borrow. "Ahoy there, Henry!"

 _What the…?_ "You don't say 'ahoy'?"

"Lad, I'm a pirate. Of course I say ahoy."

"And I'm a moody teenager that thinks the world is against me…"

 _Oi, you haven't a clue._

"Right!" the pirate beamed. "We're both full of truth then, arrrgh?"

The boy loosely smiled at the playfulness to it. _When did smiling at Hook became less commanding and… fuckoff-ish?_ Doesn't matter, thought Henry. He was too good in mood to force it into a pissy state just for Hook. He wasn't controlled by him, and… it was somewhat at least nice— _decent_ , he corrected himself—to have a civil conversation with man, once a while.

He was very close to officially moving back into his mother's, Regina's, house and having his old room back. He was personally struggling if he should redecorate it or leave it. Albeit Hook being there, Emma was with him, so maybe this would help them rekindle their bond again. And last but not least was his eccentric partner in crime, Jay. Honestly what would his life be now without her? _Not at all bearable that's what_ , he settled with.

All in all, it was a pretty good day. And he wanted to see if the odds were in his favor, so he took the punch (let's see if his mood won't crumble but withhold), "Hey, Hook…" _what does he like, um…_ (He tilted his head back) _shit! Ok, um… oh yes!_ "Tell me one of your crazy adventures you went on in your pirate days."

Wary was the pirate from Henry's request, but the feeling was overridden by the desire to tell him something he knew the lad would enjoy. And although he shouldn't really be getting too close to him, what's the harm in indulging some— _father and son?_ —bonding?

"Ye've heard of the Kraken?"

 **~Cfys~**

"Dammit…" _Restart._

[Level 197]

 _No, restart_

[Level 197]

 _Hell, no_

[Level 197]

"No… erm… ok, yea, sure"

Jay was so into the game that she didn't notice that Emma was behind her.

"No, make that into a stripe."

"But," Jay started, "if I do then I miss the opportunity to get this combustion thing." She pointed to some orange cough drops.

"True. But see here," Emma pointed to some grape heads close to each other but not quite, "Ya see how there's a way you manipulate that to form that…"

"Donut, bacteria affected thing?"

"Exactly," smirks Emma. "Though that's gross."

"They shouldn't had made it look like that."

"I agree." She glanced over at Jay and saw her smile some. "Make that sperm donut—"

Jay chortled, and then cleared her throat. "Mhmm…"

"…right, make that _thing_ ," the donut thing, "then either try and bring the striped jellybean over to the thing, or swipe it with the same color as the bean since it looks they're dominating the board, especially cos there's more red in the jelly. Got it?"

The younger shook her head and tried what the blonde suggested. And—to one's own preference if surprising or not (cos Emma makes a lot feel unsure towards her)—the tactic worked. Jay was able to make the whole board into striped jellybeans and increase her chances of passing.

"Booyah!"

The young brunette turned her head towards the blonde, "Don't… ju— don't say that."

"Yeah… guess I should do it more to annoy you," she ruffled Bexton's head, even though the other woman swatted at the incoming hand.

"Done with the packing?"

"About so, yeah." Emma stood, about to pass Jay, who quickly changed position on the steps so she was blocking the bottom step like recently done to Henry.

"What's the password?" She cheeked.

"Oh, come on."

"You got this," she assured.

"Uh… please? Can I please pass?"

The young woman gaped her mouth in astonishment.

"What?"

Jay said the next letting loose a crooked smirk. "Never once in my life did I think the Emma Swan would use in her vocab the word ' _please_ '."

"Oh you," she jut her mouth aside to keep the smile bayed and lightly kicked the other's leg. "I'm nice."

"Well, psh! You kicked, _harshly_ , an innocent civilian on these stairs Sheriff. I'm hurt you would claim such a thing." She splayed her hand over her chest and feigned an incredulous face.

"You'll end up hurt if you don't remove yourself from these stairs."

"Try me," the younger challenged.

"Mm, ok."

What happened next was an Emma Swan purposely making it difficult for herself going down the one step holding onto the banister while intentionally, though by her claim, "accidentally", stepping on Jay and smushing her face and elbowing/kneeing her stomach. And then getting the last hurrah in shoving her foot on the younger woman then fleeing away like a gazelle with a too late Jay trying to reach out and grab her, but instead rolling off the one step in failure.

Now she was the imitation of that one jackass's chalk outline.

She silently chuckled to herself from the thought.

 **~Cfys~**

"Alrighty… Hen, you got all your things packed?"

"Yeah, I'm still going to leave a few things here at grams and gramps though."

"That's fine. You might want to stay here at some point and stop by."

"Ok. So…," Henry inhaled. "Who's riding with whom?"

Jay stepped out rubbing out her neck. "I'm fine with whomever…" she pursed her lips for a sec, "that is if you want the help to unpack."

"Of course," said Emma. "It's cool if you ride with me. Henry can ride with Hook."

"Or…," Henry teeters, "I can drive with Jay, and you and Hook can drive with each other? Sounds good." He made a reach for Emma's keys in her hand.

"Nope." Emma retracted her keys before her son can grab it. "I think it's fine if Jay's with me and you with Killian."

"But she's my friend." Henry started. It was a good anecdote from Hook he heard, doesn't mean though that he's anywhere ready to ride in the same car, alone, with the pirate.

"Yeah… and she's my friend too," the blonde crossed her arms trying to stand her ground. 'Try' being the main word, cos actually she was a bit skeptic on whom Jay would choose to ride with. More likely Henry, but still…

"Damn Hook," Jay whispered over to him, "you've been an ass lately?"

"Uh—"

"Stop. I'll ride with you and we'll let the other two hash out who deserves me more on the drive over."

"You're so full of yourself you know that?" voiced Henry.

"Have to be in order to survive, right?" she winked at Henry and led her eyes over to Emma before closing the truck door. The other two not hiding their disdain for the other as they entered the Bug.

Not five seconds on the road and already tension can be targeted in the truck with Jay and Killian.

"Sooo...," she drawled.

He looked over to her and grunted, signaling that he's listening.

"...where ya from?" she faintly drums her knees with both hands.

"The seas."

"That's nice, nice, nice..." she mutters the rest looking away and seeing trees wave her by.

Strained silence passes the air with Jay thinking up something, only this time Hook taking the reins.

"I've never seen you 'round...," he leans in his seat looking at the rearview mirror. "So you?"

She heard him, "huh? what?"

"You're not from here."

"No one is."

"Yeah, but ye—"

"Rough childhood, don't wanna talk 'bout it." She crossed her arms from the faint feeling of insecurity, and wants to allude to him to drop it.

He glances over to her, "Aye...same here." Back to driving.

Curiosity peeks out, "What happened to you?"

"Hmph, you first."

"I asked you first," she remarks.

"No ye didn't"

"Yes I did."

"No"

"Yes"

"Unh-unh"

" _Yes,"_ she heats. _"_ I asked where you're from, you said the "piss water seas" then you asked same from me. I said no—"

"Which you remarked with 'rough childhood'," he mimicked back.

"Of that _you_ wanted to pry from!" She turned in her seat facing the pirate with the seatbelt digging in her shoulder a bit.

"To each lass her own...," he looked away and smirked.

"To each jackass his own," she riposted.

"Y- you-," he exaggeratedly look to her and the road. "Ye're a nasty lil' barnacle aren't you?

"Ha!" Jay looked to him seeing his serious face, at which she bursts out laughing.

His face stared turning red from the humiliation he's being dealt. "What? What's so funny?"

 **~Cfys~**

"Sooo..." Henry drawled.

"No"

"But come on!" He reasoned.

"My car my rules, final." Affirmed Emma.

"Isn't it supposed to be mines though? I mean, like I can drive now. I'm of age, for real!"

"For real, _no._ " She paused for a sec. "And no to the other thing"

"You listen to dust. How is this fair—no, don't answer."

"It's not dust!" she squeaked in a Mickey voice. "If you give it a chance, you'd like it too. So—stop!" she slapped his hand from changing the station.

He moaned, "Duuuussst"

"It's not—"

"Dust!"

"Now hold on th—"

"Dust! Dust! Dust! Dust!" He pettishly chants.

"You've been hanging with Jay too much," again she swats his hand. Abba's not dust.

Henry cradles his merely stung hand and whispers the last. " _Dust_..."

The air settles back to unease quiet with leaks of a too upbeat tune in a too compact car. Drizzling weather is ongoing with the distant swirls of thin clouds, each raindrop adding their story while dripping down the Bug's windows. Plus the mechanical squeaks from the windshield wipers providing the everlasting tenseness between the mother and son duo.

Excitement can go both ways regarding emotions. There's the positive, adrenaline excitement that buzzes away in a person, not being able to wait for what they're so expecting to come. Then there's the anxious one where there's dread and uncertainty gassing, but resentfully curiosity getting the better of the cat. Unfortunately, not only does Emma feel the negative one churning in her, but also the positive. Excited she is to move into the mansion, however, wary of the other's moving in with her. Not that she would prefer the pristine mansion to herself, just that there's two males with backward issues of their own. One of whom she knows some things about—although ignorantly not enough—and the other who is just straight up a wild card.

Eyes bounce onto Henry then back to the road.

* * *

 **Some Days Ago**

"I just...I just... Mnh-mnh." Henry shook his head. "Just... _FUCK_!"

"Ay!" Jay chucks the phone away from her ear from Henry's shrieking voice. She left it away from her a few seconds before resuming their 'conversation'. "Calm the hell down... Repeat what you said."

"SHE JUST—"

"Calmly!" she scolded.

The tip of his ears shaded pink from his reprimand. "Sorry..." he lames picking his pant leg while in the Bug. "Sorry." He truths.

"Okay," she can be heard taking a breath through the receiver. "What did Emma say that's got you so hell-bent?"

"Don't say that."

"What?"

"Hell bent. She just said that paired with something stupid. That word's banned."

" _Oh my...,_ " she frustratingly sighs. "Henry, what did she say that has you upset? C'mon, just tell me. Please?"

He doesn't hurriedly reply, but instead looks at his disoriented reflection in the window beside him. Hair is disheveled—she was right, it does need a touch up—and his face looked sunken. Thinking about it, he hasn't been sleeping lately, for a while actually. Very erratic sleep patterns he's been going by, with shots of coffee to help him slog along. His appetite was improper as well, that's also another cause of his fatigue. Nonetheless, he hid it well with his heavy or light black clothing and usual withdrawal from people. Yet, when is the last time he hasn't worn long sleeves?

" _since...before my cuts..._ " he unmindfully mutters.

"Before what Hershey?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head. "Since when have you been calling me _Hershey_?"

It wasn't seen, but heard of the other person shifting uncomfortably wherever they were. "Uh... um. I don't know," she quiets, "just... We're friends right?"

"More than you know," he responds.

"Cool, yeah... Emma? What she said that's bothering you?" Change of topic is always nice.

Henry blows a breath thrumming on his leg for a beat. "She told me...," he absently looks to his reflection again, now seeing street lights awakening. "I have to go to therapy again." He drops his head in defeat, resignation leaving his words.

"Aw, sorry Hen." She candors.

Barely a 'thanks' comes from his lips.

"That means you're going to see that guy with endless tweed, right?"

"He has a dog you know? But yeah, Dr. Hopper, Archie."

"His jackets made more of an impression than Pongo. So is that it, is it just you attending?" She can be heard shifting on a bed.

A hand of his picks up the discarded beer bottle his mother left behind. Sniffing it some, he scrunches his face, not from the smell, but from the label reading _lite_ beer. "Ugh," he lows. _Emma has definitely not been herself in forever._

"No, it's family therapy. Me and her since we have 'problems'. Though, that's not it."

"Huh? What then?"

He decides to divert. "What ya doin'?"

At which she sighs. "...building an organization for evil... and my nails."

"Neat. What color and who's the leader?"

"Nude and glossy black, one black's a shimmer type... and don't know officially."

"Could I join?"

"Dunno if you're worth it," she blows on her fingers.

"What'd I have to do?"

She half-heartedly shrugs even though he can't see it. "Be there I guess? You're more so chosen I think."

"You think I can be chosen? Not be the odd one out, you know."

"Hey, your more special than you think."

Henry chuckles. "Cos I'm the Author and truest believer?" _Let's see if she really likes me for me._ He bites the inside of his lip just thinking over the prospect that this friendship could be on false grounds.

"Yes and no. Believe me, I understand what's it like to have this awesome ability and be doted over just from it. But—"

"What power you got?"

"Shhh, I'm speaking. Anyway, that's not us. We're more than meat suits with expectations cos of our titles. We're people too, feelings and all. That makes us more special than anything else because we are different in our own ways. Similarities, yes. But also contrasts that attracts us like magnets, people in general. Loosely speaking with no offense, but look at both your Moms, I wouldn't believe anything else but something interesting between them. It's just likely. To sum it up, _Hershey_ , I like you, so don't overthink it."

A smile splays radiantly on Hershey's face, "My glob, you do have feelings! That was so cute and honest," he teases.

"Ugh! I know... Lifetime bud, it gets you like Taylor."

"Mmm. Haters gonna hate."

"And we're just gonna shake."

"Never goin' outta style."

"You and me in December, donning red down the aisle."

"I knew you were trouble."

"Since day 22 on your doorstep."

Both brunettes on opposite ends were unaware of the natural smiles taking their face.

Jay changes her position again, "So, what's it with the other thing of therapy that got you all storm cloud?"

"Eh, I also gotta attend counseling. Some new school counselor."

"Oh yeah, I know him...," she blew her nails again.

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. Mr. A or Mr. B... I don't know his preference. We're related."

"Shit, really? Hold up, you got parents? No wait... how old are you?"

"These are the questions...," Jay mutters. "Alright, age? Erm... 19? 21...? Or maybe 23?"

"You're kidding? How the hell you don't know your age?"

"Ehunno," she slurred. "I came from the woods, there ain't no way of time. And yeah, an uncle/father, complicated relationship, so don't ask."

"Nice," he sarcasms. "Anything I need to know about him?" He eyes out the window seeing the remnants of colors fade from the sky, midnight blue overtaking the watercolor pink. _When is the snow coming...?_

"Cool guy in general, can get a temper of a villain though. But I feel he'll be patient with you, so."

"Mmm, ok. Gotta go do chores, text me later?"

"Yep." She affirms, then goes in a deep voice, "Make that broom your bitch!"

* * *

 **Present**

"Let's be truthful here... are you Emma's bitch?"

 _What the…?!_ Hook looks over to the passenger with him and raises brows at the woman as if she's off the bat. "If in the bedroom is what you mean then…," he quirks an eyebrow and lets a perverted smile cross his face.

 _I should kick your ass again..._

Covertly, Jay leans a little to Hook's side to see how that nose of his is doing. Her left arm resting on the armrest with her right thumb circling the first of her fingers as if she's in deep contemplation. "...I really enjoy your wife."

"What?!"

"She's really pretty, like almost stunning..."

"I uh… yes, Emma is one of a kind… But what're yer—"

"Just stating out the facts," she shrugs.

The pirate reluctantly glances at her, "I see."

"Do you?" She tilts her head, prodding on.

"Pardon me?"

"You're not. I fail to see the worth you hold for Emma, that is her to you." She turned in her seat directly facing the pirate with her desert eyes. "I mean, someone that radiant," _besides the look of imminent death creeping her_ , "deserves more… I don't know," she shrugs. "Gifts? Nights out? Romantic gestures? Shoot, at least a daily nice affirmation."

A slither of anger rumbles in Hook's stomach with a splash of panic. "Well what do you know? I've been married to her longer than you stepped in our lives—"

" _Their_ lives," she fixed.

"Psh!" he fully looked away from her. _The nerve this lass has._

She held her tongue only for a sec, "Well…?"

He scoffed, audibly, under his breath leaning in his seat and looking to the rearview mirror. "Well what?"

"Do you do things for her?"

"Again, if _to_ her you mean," a salacious smile glowed, "then I honestly don't—"

Loudly, Jay blew a harsh breath wiping down on her eyes not believing this egotistical asshole. " _Oh my..._ "

He gave an eye her way, "What?" he shammed innocence.

 _I'ma jump you again, that's what. This time off the books._ She shook her head letting him see the disappointment on her face.

"What?" he pushed.

"Ohhh nothing...," again she shook her head just vacantly looking forward. "Just that you're a failed excuse of a husband, definitely, and a indolent, lousy stepfather/role model—in general actually," her brows rise from the plain recent discovery, "for Henry, so." Her eyes roll smoothly then on an expressionless, but slacked jaw Killian. The red building in his face slowly and steadfast was easily noticeable.

"You... little..., " he tries to form.

Jay rolled her head back to him coolly with raised brows, "What? Bitch? Tosser? I dunno your muck, twaddle-fuck, (she bobs to the rhyming) pirate lingo well, so heh," she shrugged. "But! I do know that your wife recoils with possible disgust and that Henry would piss on you faster than you supposedly make your wife—or any chick at that—'cum'." She air-quotes with a self-amused smile. "That is…," she mindfully voiced, "if you can call it that. That ' _oh so satisfaction_ ' face of their peak is probably their surprised ' _oh this bitch ain't shit_ ' face."

"..."

"Of course," she squints, "if it's sex we're speaking about," then shrugs.

(⫑_⫒)

Asswipe's pride deflates from thereon.

 **~Cfys~**

"You can't just change your mind, Henry..."

Said teen faces the window beside him and mutters his words, "It's stupid."

Emma sighs, "I thought we agreed on this."

"You agreed on it. Not me." He flashed a scowl at her. "It's enough to go to counseling at school. But Archie too? Or vice versa? _That's stupid_."

Irritation was faintly tickling at Emma. "Well, kid. My rules, so."

Like that would do.

"I'm not going..."

"Yes, you are. I already declared it and scheduled it. I'm not telling you again, so I advise—"

"Do...you... _not _ understand the _implications_ this will bring on me?" Henry enunciated nice and slowly to push the thought into his insipid mother's brain.

She peeked over at him, "Well I—"

"NO! YOU DON'T!"

A cross look shadowed her, "Don't you _dare_ speak to me like—"

"I will speak how I want when it—"

"I am your mother and—"

"YOU ARE NOT MY MOTHER! Not!" His voice cracked. "A mother... a mother doesn't do this to her son, her child. Sends them to therapy when they're already a target for humiliation and practical death threats at school!"

From the corner of her eye she saw the glint of a tear roll down her son's face. Right away something shifted in her, "Henry... I'm sorry. B-but I talked to your principal to keep an eye out, and-and I, uh—"

"I get nightmares you know?" Glossed eyes flash straight to her then back to the road. "I uh, um..." he bitterly swallows. What's the point keeping this to himself? Go ahead and let her see an ounce of misery he's in. "These flashes of that um... that uh time I was jumped. Shadows with masquerade masks—a whole gang of them though," he licked his lips noting the taste of salt. "And this one... this one really exaggerated theatre masked half gold and half red," he gestured to his face. "...I hate it..." his words catch in his throat. "There's always _him_ and that... _stupid_ mask that makes me so, so scared," he drearily shook his head feeling ashamed from this confession. He uses his sleeve to rub his eye of the saltiness.

A heavy heart is too much an understatement flourishing in Emma. Barely she can find words to soothe her son. "Henry..."

"It's not even that," he spitefully chuckles, "that makes me feel so... _unprotected_. It's the blood. The-the mask of gore that just—" again he shook his head. "That just spewed out of me like a gusher."

"Henry, I just—"

"Wants to send her pathetic son to therapy in hopes to come running home to his mother so she can feel _needed_. I screamed Emma." He peered at her. "I screamed _so much_ in _so much_ pain, and not just literal, emotional too... when you didn't pick up the phone." He turned in his seat giving full attention on her. "Why didn't you pick up the phone, Emma?"

Somewhere there is a set of stairs in her abdomen, and her stomach is flopping down like a slinky on it. Plenty of interrogations she has done as Sheriff, but with the tables turned and her son being the interrogator while emotionally bustled is more than intimidating. Actually, this is probably the most intimidated she's been. And given her known whereabouts at that unfortunate time, indeed the answer will cause havoc with him.

"Why didn't you pick up the phone, Emma?"

 _Why is he saying it like that?_

The way he's saying that is sending strings of chills along Emma's spine. They're in a closed capacity nearly—but hell not quick enough—to the mansion, on the road in a decent albeit faulty Bug, with the addition of rain, and a more than inconsistent Henry. Maybe not 'more than'—although if she could pick her death or some form of tragedy, hands down this would be one of them. It's no good at all she thinks this. In fact, thinking that her son could physically do her harm is such a no-no disposition, she actually feels shame warming in her. From everything that is. This is why they need therapy; this is why he needs to see her way. The air is shifting slowly but surely, she can feel it. She already knows they're in the storm, been so for a while, it's the damn eye she's more often than not anticipating.

 _I need to throw up..._

When everything all of sudden seems calm and complacent is when the unexpected comes to light. They are not going to approach that if she can help it, hell no. He has to see her way.

"Emma, why didn't you—"

"Asleep. I was asleep. Just-just very hard. You know... you know how much I don't sleep anymore, huh?" A half of glance is thrown his way as the words tumble out her mouth. "I um. I am _so_ sorry, though. I'm just—" she regretfully shook her head for many reasons and lightly slapped the steering wheel. "You should not feel unprotected. Do you understand? _I will protect you_ ," her words were accompanied by light sniffles. "I will try harder. From bullies, family, everything anything! Just don't feel that way ok?" she blindly reached for his hand coming with success—at his own consent that is. "You are _my_ son, no matter what," _and I'm your mother_ , "and I will always, **_ALWAYS_** love you, ok? Don't forget that, please? Promise me," she pleads a look to him.

"Uh...,"

"Henry Daniel Mills, promise me." Desperate doesn't even convey the tone of her voice.

"Um, uh... As long as no one or thing gets between us?" He is baffled on why Emma is being this assertive of her love for him. Like yeah..., he's aware that she loves him, but—

"Yes, yes! Fuck people, fuck worldly objects, all that shit. Just—... yes!" The rest of her gratitude she show's through squeezing his hand.

* * *

"So, what's your job?"

Just grunting the pirate focuses on the road ahead. Jay isn't much nice without Henry or Emma at her side. It's more than obvious that she has some form of resentment toward Hook, but he can't recall ever getting on the lass's nerve. He keeps to himself, mostly. Nothing much he can do other than play devoted husband and trying stepfather to Emma's lad.

'Play,' being the key word.

"So?"

He grumbles a curse under his breath then glances to the brunette, rummaging in his head an adequate answer to shut her up. "Variety."

"What?" brows furrow.

 _Bollocks! Why won't she hush up?_ "Just wee jobs here and there. A lot of skills up me sleeve."

"Like?"

"Like..., why are ye taking interest in Henry?" Diverting seems like a lovely fallback.

"That's not what I asked."

"No?" Hook slightly jutted his head out as if this was news. "Tis my job to know affairs being tied with the lad. Shitty stepfather ye say I be..., but I do care for him. So, why you suddenly take notice of him?"

Jay takes a too quick breath from the spotlight burning on her. She can't retaliate from the question, or else something will seem fishy to the pirate. "...I like him." She pursed her lips.

"Aye, he feels same. Granted he doesn't speak much to me, but I can see it." He looked over to her, half-heartedly giving her a smile. "Jay..., t'lad is fragile. Ever since his mother's death. Now I don't know if Emma spoken in this way to you, though I doubt it since she is enamored in you as well," another glance he throws at her, "but I hope ye daren't break his heart." He then straightens his posture in a fatherly manner from the words rendered.

A, " _What?_ " left from her lips a tad too harsh.

"Ye've heard me. Break t'lad's heart, then it's me you've to deal with."

 _Oh, hell no!_ The cheeky lass thought. So many red flags are sprouting right now that its whack-a-mole. "So you're accusing me that I'll break Henry's heart?" _—and then acting you're the innocent one, and taking the fatherly status?!_

"Yes," he turns the wheel. They're close to the mansion now.

Jay scoffs, "And what makes you think I'd do such a thing?"

"Well fallouts are common, aye? Neptune knows how much me and him had...," that one early morning before Henry's accident flitted. "Just with the way he takes such...," he swayed his head to find a worthy word, " _fancy_ in you is enough to know there's something special he values there."

"So?"

" _So_ , his heart broke once and is probably on the verge to another, I just don't want it to be someone he respects and regards a true friend. Best if it's someone he doesn't care much for..."

 _Like you?_ she thought.

"That's the last thing I'd want to do," she instantly softens. Ahijah (he prefers to go by) would truly be upset to know that she has formed a swift, genuine connection with Henry. He likes to constantly remind her that this a job, not something else.

"Good," the pirate sums. "I believe you too, just so you know."

"Yeah, thanks." _dipshit..._ She's not feeling too well now. Neither is Hook.

"Help me with something?" he breaks after some silence stilled between them.

She nods her head signaling she's all ears.

"I have a gift for him," he takes his one hand off the steering wheel, and quickly reaches for a little box in his leather jacket, then hands it over.

Jay opens the box and alarms at the gift. "A ring?" uncertainty tinges.

"Say the gift is from you. He'll without resistance accept it from you than me."

 _What the hell is going on?_ "Um, Hook... I dunno."

"Lass, please? The lad may spite me and disregard anything I say and give, but that doesn't wholly mean I do same to him."

Jay sighs. "Okay..., ok." She puts the tiny box in her pocket. "And don't call me lass." They were at the mansion now, both unbuckling to get out the truck.

"Don't sound like a pompous twit that speculates mo' 'bout me than ye introspect."

"Oooh, big words we're using now?"

"Smart mouth we're flashing now?" He slams the door shut.

"Mm. Guess I'll get used to being called lass."

"...and ye say I'm vain..."

They both approach the mother and son duo that's been there for a few minutes now. Those two not even offering eye contact to the other.

Bexton decides to lift the tension that's buzzing all around. "Henry!" she cheers. "How was t'ride with Emstagram ov' here?"

 _Is she mimicking me again?_

"Nothing much, just that I'm the Dancing Queen, given I can't drink or drive."

Hook is already reaching for his flask, at which Emma raises her arm and shakes her disapproval.

"Mesmerizing year, innit?" She waggles her brows like the pirate, to which Henry gives a light giggle. To which Emma's heart does a tiny dip, when's the last time she heard her son _giggle_? _When's the last time I made him giggle?_ (Disregarding her clumsiness of course)

"I see Hook made an impression on you." He searches for his keys, getting in position to unlock the mansion. A big red ribbon would be perfect for this grand event.

"Aye, twas a bit odd hearing the pissin' of Killian. Nevertheless, I dismissed the tosser he is and went with the waves."

This time Henry chortles.

The pirate interrupted, "I don't sound like that!"

"Drunk you do," offers Henry as he swings the door open.

 _Which is practically always...,_ sums Swan with a nod to herself.

* * *

"Pivot."

"Alright"

"No, pivot."

"I am"

"You're not."

"Jay, I am doing the literal definition of pivoting."

"Henry, you are not," she looked down at him.

The both were in the teen's old bedroom of his mother's mansion where Jay was teaching Henry some fighting moves, or to quote, "don't fall on your ass in public". The position he was in was complicated, his back slightly arched underneath his friend, as she towered over him, as one arm held to the front of her jacket and the other locked one of hers. With his hair curtaining away from his face he used his might to keep balance and not accidentally topple his friend onto him. Likewise said, the move wasn't for beginners and perhaps impossible.

"Alright," she blew. "Let's give it one more go."

Once more they attempted at it. Her slowly swinging a right hook, him ducking it then entrapping it with his arm while turning his back toward her only then to dip in the previous arched positon and try to flip her, but—

"Pivot!"

"Dammnit!" They both crumbled down.

"Screw it, you'll exceed at it later in life."

"Meaning never." He nodded. "What more pivoting was there?"

She stood and fixed herself, "You had to twist my arm slightly which required some pivoting, that way you're a bit more grounded and can lift and flip me. You probably just don't have the upper body strength."

"Thanks..."

"Mhmm."

"Question: What's that power you once mentioned, and what's that box I felt in your pocket?" he points to said jacket.

 _Observant much...?_ "Right," she's not going to goopify this up. Better to level it. So, she tossed the ring box at him giving a genuine smile, at which he just furrowed his brows. Next, she opened the window by his bedside, stood back, and took a calm stature, breathing in and out soothingly.

"A ring?" asked Henry.

"Mmm," holding up two fingers on the arm closest to the window she—

"Why a ring? Not that I'm not grateful. It looks really nice, but—"

"Hush punk! I'm trying to show you my power. And I told you a while back I like you, so I got you a gift. No I didn't steal it or some other crooked crap. Let's just say I have investments."

"But a ring...?" he forwarded, at which she just slumped her shoulders from her proper stance.

"I don't know the full customs of this land," she huffs, "but I felt you should have that. You've been a good friend, I don't have those, so." She shrugged like it wasn't a biggie.

"Erm... okay." Henry seesawed. "But if we break up, I'm keeping it," slipping the ring on, he flashed his hand.

Jay chuckles, "No prenup."

"Don't need one to know we're _madly_ in love," he then flopped on his bed.

"Two love-struck teenagers...," she muttered, "that ain't a shitstorm." Once again she straightened her back and took a heavy breath to relieve her tensions. She hasn't exempted this trait of hers in a while, but it's worth to try at sporadic moments. Complemented her friend's good mood, Emma's stable mood, and things in general just softly swaying in the water, now seemed better a time to show off (for her own sake though) her intriguing lig—

"Hey, Jay!" Emma quirks.

Henry only stiffens.

And Jay..., S _crew it, if not now, then never._ "Hey there Sheriff."

"Henry," Emma nods at him to which he grunts while 'looking' for something.

"Right," she drones. "Hey, can I talk to you about something?" She eyes the younger woman.

"Anything you have to say to her, you can say to me too." Henry lowed with his nose in a comic.

"Uh,"

"It's fine, Jay." Emma lets her eyes comb over Henry and espies him taking a peek to her as well.

Being honest, even though Jay's aware of the overriding tension between the Swan-Mills duo, she's never really been comfortable. Weren't they supposed to be working on their relationship? Because that's what she recalls Henry, and separately Emma, telling her. Although it seems since she became the friend of both, the wedge between blonde and brunette has yet to cease. Dissipate at least. And if it is, hell it's slow.

"Anyway," leans Emma against the doorframe of her son's room. "I spoke some things regarding Hen's school recently and discovered you're not enrolled. What's up with that?" Her thumb then hooks around a belt loop; the usual unconcerned Sheriff position. All laid back and such, but subtly they pry for information and try to hint at something.

"You're right, I'm not enrolled."

"Mm. You know that's truancy?"

"Um, what?" _Is she Sheriffing me?_

"Jay's probably too old enough to attend Emma," coolly went off Henry. "So you know, it's not truancy."

In lieu of asking, the sheriff just juts her chin implying what's her son talking about to the other woman.

"She has an age range, Sheriff. Grew up where time isn't of the essence," Smartass' Henry. "So stop the interrogation before you read her some rights."

"Like you're exemplifying right now? Cos if I recall, I wasn't asking you."

"If I recall, free country."

"When your 18 and out of this house. Otherwise, keep those lips shut went questions aren't directed to you. 'kay?"

Only sounds offering to the tamed room was Henry gently laying down his comic and directing a leveled stare at his mother. Or in this case, the Sheriff. Those impassive faces easily grabbed hold of the two as they barely even wisped a breath. One holding their tongue, the other their mind.

The teen then snides, "Aren't you supposed to be Sheriffing elsewhere?" _or being a plain ass?_ "Cos if I—"

"Stop Henry." Jay placates her hand out.

"What?"

"Your mom is just asking if I attend school or not. Nothing wrong with that." She turns her eyes to Emma giving attention, "No. I've never went. I'm enrolling though, basic classes. "

"Good, a degree's important," Swan relaxes. Whether it's from Jay's honest testament or the act of Henry being on a leash, is going to be ignored. "Is the new school counselor your parent or close relative?"

"Yes." Her eyes flash to Henry to see if he's cooled down.

"Ok, then. I can get in contact with him if you want..., to help."

"No, no. It's fine. He does have your number for Henry though."

"Ok." Her legs start backtracking out the room as she gains her courage. "Henry, I set up the locks and such around here so there's no tampering with you know..."

He does.

"Also... I talked to Archie and...," she fully stopped for a bit gathering her thoughts.

Henry's brows knitted, "What?"

"Um...," she looked at Jay, then him, then rushes out, " ** _oursession'srightnowthanlater_** , bye Jay!"

 _Scarf, scarf, scarf. Where's the scarf?_ flurries out Emma.

"Bye, Emma...," but Swan is long gone. From the looks of Henry though, he's all there. "Henry?"

"..."

"Mills?"

"..."

 _He's in shock._

"Hey, it's going to be alright Henry. You—"

"They're going to see me as a freak." he empties.

"What? No..."

"Freak. Freak. Freak. Freak. Fre—"

"Stop."

"Freak. Freak. Fucking _Freak_ "

"Stop, this isn't funny. You're not a freak. Far from it."

He tightly shakes his head. "School thinks I'm a freak. Townspeople, too. Probably my family. Even my jumper."

"No wait, that's not... that's not true." She shook her head. No, he-he's not a freak. Henry is any-an anything from a freak. That's not true. Nope, far from, Jay shakes her head.

"It's normal you don't think that. You haven't known me that long, and even then you're way to good to me."

No, he-he's not a freak.

"Listen," he rose, "I'll call you later after this horror show. I can tell you the shittiness of school life then."

Far from. Anything from a freak. No... no. Just... just...

"Jay?"

No... "Huh?" she forces her attention.

"I'll call you after this," he popped his collar with his trademark scarf over his neck and his hair laying on it. He has to get that cut.

"I can cut your um..., hair." She practices on her father—no. Ahijah. She practices on Ja—no. "I practice on my dad sometimes. Um...," she closes her eyes barely regaining herself. "He enjoys it, and he has hair like you."

"Cool," smiled the oblivious boy, fixing the rest of his jacket. "Alright then, see ya punk."

 _Punk..._ , understatement of the century.

* * *

"Where's Pongo?"

"Uh, well," Dr. Hopper fidgets at his glasses, wiping the obvious smudges that surfaced seconds prior. "Pongo... um, Pongo isn't here today cos um," the doctor licked his lips. "He's not feeling too well, Emma."

"Oh..." — _shit. There's need to be a buffer for me and Henry._

Said teen tosses a pillow beside him to the vast space between him and Emma. "There," he cozied more onto his side.

"Hmm?"

"From the drop of your tone, and actual concern the dog isn't here, I can tell you wanted him here for a barrier between us. Don't worry, I don't bite. _...sometimes..._ " He subtly smirks and hides his face from Emma's widened expression.

That is something Regina would say, thinks Emma.

 _He didn't even say 'Pongo'..._ Archie concludes. Henry has always loved that dog, even when he didn't want to be here. This must be something deeper than he thought.

"Okay," starts the doctor as he clicks his pen, "Emma, let's address the issue on why you two are here to create a foundation to build upon."

Said woman squirms in her seat letting the squeaks of the leather do her talking. Therapy is not for her, why did she even decide on this? It's redundant actually when she thinks about it: ' _I'm done with secrets and loathing being held between us. You wanted a fresh start, a fresh fucking start we get.'_

A fresh fucking idea that was...

She needs to start mulling over her thoughts more carefully than bursting out what she feels and thinks, cos first it's this—ignore her selfishness, forgetting that this overall benefits Henry—then what she said to Granny about her assaulter, almost murderer, followed with their move into the mansion. Granted it was Henry's request, yet there had to be warning telling her this wasn't a good one. It's one thing when her and him move in, it's another when it involves the sea specimen Regina holds her tongue at, for Emma's sake.

 _Regina..._

"Can I um, step out for a sec Archie? Just need a clear head," she pointed at the door, her arm reaching for the recently new handkerchief flourishing of the Queen's perfume.

"Yeah, no problem Emma."

Hearing the door click shut, the fickle brunette reviews the ginger in front of him.

And that was all. Nothing else released from either's breath, lest you consider Archie's trembling and Henry's steadfast infuriating at the thought being here, _again_.

But the Cricket doesn't like to make light of his chirps, so, "How was your um, your uh recovery, Henry? I do hope it was peaceful."

The teen shrugged.

"Um..., you have school coming back up. Surely your excited about that?"

Another shrug, with a bit of a scowl.

"Right...," he wipes his glasses from the speck of specks on them. "You moved into your old home again, how do you like that?"

"..."

 ** _Chirp... Chirp... Chirp... Chirp._ **

_Um..._ He opened his mouth to say something more, but let it become tired air— "Oh! Jay. I see you two been spending quite some time together. Is everything going great?"

That got the brunette's rapt attention. "Why? Do you know her?"

"Uh, not like you. But um," he swallows, "I talked to her father the other day, cos, as y-you know, he's your school's new counselor."

"And...?"

"Well um..., she's a remarkable young lady. I see he takes pride in her. Like," his brows rose, "like how Emma takes pride in you, actually."

"Mm." He unmindfully twisted his ring,

"And uh, Hook!"

then stopped.

Earlier in the day he was fine indulging the pirate, but that's about it. It was more of a test run, doesn't mean he suddenly _likes_ him.

"What does he have to take pride in?"

"Well, uh—"

"Except for being in competition with Leroy for Town Drunk." He leaned forward, his hands clasping, again twisting his gift from Jay.

Dr. Hopper adjusts himself in his mediocre low chair. "That's not a nice thing to say Henry. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

"What did you tell him? The counselor."

"You know I can't share that with you."

"Cos you're talking about me, right? The issues I have, the whispers about me, _my accident..._ "

"No, no! Never. Um, well..., yes there was a topic including you. But only words of advice from me to uh him, to-to, um..., know how to talk to you. Nothing more, nothing else." He takes another go at his glasses. How unfortunate there isn't a better optical source in this town.

Hearing the telltale of the door, Emma resumes spot next to Henry (w/ distance of course) from her recent side-high. ""Kay, Archie. I'm ready to officially start the session." Her leg bounced a bit too excitingly.

What wonders Her majesty's perfume does. It just has a certain... _je ne sais quoi_.

Tu es d'accord?

"Um, uh...," fumbles the cricket. He fixes his tie, technically disarraying it, and makes doubtful eye-contact with the Sheriff.

"What?" queries Emma.

"Well um, y-you see—"

"He thinks this won't work Emma," butts in Henry.

"That's... not at all true, it's just—"

"He thinks I'm a lost cause and your pathetic."

"Well wait a minute," Archie tries to grasp, putting up a finger, "I-I did not say such a thing. H-Henry w-w-what are you doing?"

"Tellin' the truth Archie. I'm a lost cause, barely still in one piece. As for Emma, she's nothing more than an empty shell that dotes over the pirate. Nothing more, nothing else." He shrugs.

"See Archie, this is why we're here. One moment we're both fine, things are said to try anew, and next he acts like a little turd. No offense Henry."

"You wouldn't call me a piece of shit if offense wasn't meant Emma."

She turns to him, "Well it probably was meant if you keep talking to me like that."

"So you did call me a piece of shit?" a brow rises.

"Well guys—" hesitates the doctor.

This time she shrugs, "Potato-potahto."

"Potato-fuck you though. Okay? Alright."

"Archie?!" screeches Emma.

"Archie?!" mimics Henry.

"Guys—"

"You know what? If you have something to say to my face, then by all means say it and stop being a little piss-shit, Henry!" She bores right onto him, at which he turns to her direction too.

"You mean 'piece of shit', Emma?" condescends him.

"No, _'piss-shit'_ , cos you're pissing and shitting all over the place dampening the whole mood and fucking things up!" She grits through her teeth, leaning close to him.

"You're the epitome of fuckup, so what do you know?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

 _ **Chirp... Chirp... Chirp... Chi—**_

"I'm sorry," Henry quiets.

Archie softens, "That's alright Henry. Emma?"

"..."

The blonde only bites her tongue and stays rooted for seconds just eyeing her son. Archie conceded to the apology, but was it to her too? She has to think that because when he said it, he wasn't looking at anyone.

"Apology accepted," she lights.

Now Henry takes turn to staring at his mother. The apology was directed to her, and yeah, Dr. Hopper too. He didn't deserve that kind of treatment from Henry. However, the pause Emma just demonstrated ever so more makes him question her ability to take truth to him, and not second guess it. The room is a pin drop of quiet as everyone waits on him to say something to move this session along. Although, there is just something tapping inside him telling him to do otherwise.

From this he slowly turns away from Emma settling in his spot again, at which she crosses a glance to him, but also retreats to her position as well.

Straightaway he fakes an advance towards her, not even moving from his spot, to which she responds with a vast flinch and jumps off the couch like prey taking off.

"SEE THERE?! See Archie!" He juts a finger at her, "She is the one who has the issues! _Why the hell would she think that I'd harm her?!_ "

"Uh, um, I—well..., I—" the ginger flabbergasts.

Emma, on the other hand, is sporting a gaping mouth with a raised hand, thinking of (no) reasons to get herself out of this. Literally her mind is barely sputtering but flashing 'Fuckup'.

"So no one has an explanation...?"

"..."

"Well—it's just, um... I uh—"

"..."

"Right, screw it. I'm going to get my hair cut." Up and out the room Henry retires, leaving two hapless people to their own tongue twist.

He heavily sighs, _One session down, another to go._


	16. Chapter 16

"Please? Come on, pleeeeaassse?"

"...Emma, I don't even live far from the school."

"Yeah, I know—well, actually I don't…, where _do_ you live?"

"The woods"

"Born in the woods, live in the woods, 'coming out the woodwork', you're just a _walking_ idiom, aren't you?" she awkwardly gestured.

"Hate much?"

"That you're not coming, _yeah_."

"You can handle him."

"No, I can't. _You_ can, he seems to like you out of everyone."

"…he likes you…"

"Bullshit much?"

Jay smirks at the other end of the receiver. "Alright, fine. I'll be over in a jiff." _Click._

Swan lets the phone skit out her hand and drops her head onto the the island's countertop. Nothing impressive happening for her today other than dropping Henry off at school…, and supposedly taking on that lead Granny offered. If she can even call it that even, "lead", more like shit-stirrer.

Killian is still snoring his inebriation off—what hell was he doing last night? Henry's preparing himself for his first day back since their accident. And Emma is up because she has to drive the little tyke to school with her nerves fervently jittering. Obviously, all she'd have to do is whip out her—Regina's—trusty, fashion worthy scarf and indulge herself in the aroma to feel content. However, that wasn't feasible in public places other than behind closed doors. So, she had to downsize to what is now known the _handkerchief_ , which isn't suspicious at all. People still flaunt with them now with such gaiety in their _swish_ , while also prancing through splurging that _swash_.

A chortle erupts from her throat.

She might as well be whipping out a wand and saying a spell in her house robes—certainly being "Coward". Despite so, at least she has an excuse to have one and flourish it about. Given excuses being: allergies provided her always red-rimmed eyes, look of fatigue, and constant absence of self—around the majority that is. Being in company of Jay, her husband, maybe Henry…, and some others, she'll have to seldom exhibit it rather than whip that bad boy out. Or girl…? since she thinks of Regina when inhaling the scent. Bad girl?

" _Ooh_ …" her voice peaks and interests of the aspect risen. Indeed that's interesting thinking of Her majesty as a " _bad girl_ ". In fact—

"Emma!"

"Huh? What?"

Henry rounds the island to the fridge and rummages in it. "Nothing, you was just someplace else."

"Oh…," close call. "You have everything ready?"

"Mhmm."

"Lunch?"

"Yep"

"Supplies?"

"Yep"

"Phone?"

"Like you'll pick up..., _aha,_ " he spots the grapes.

Swan bulges her jaw aside, feeling the staunchness of her face from reasons she can't scold that smartass retort. "I said I was sorry."

He gives a peek her way, "Sorry doesn't really cut it. Doesn't matter though," shrugs him, " I forgave you…."

Ounces of constraint relief ebbs into her. "Thanks…."

"Mm, not for therapy though." He turns away from her picking at some grapes. She can't help but resentfully bore her eyes onto him, hitherto zoning in on a low fade lining the back of his head.

"When did you get that…? The fade?" Without warning she slides up to him examining the nice shave. There were even some intricate lines hatching. 5 in total…

"If you were listening when I left you and Archie, I went to get my haircut. Jay done it, taper fade and all." He unraveled his hair to also display the cut she done.

"Damn…."

"Yep, conditioner. Now it can be worn down or up with some masculinity to it, but still close to Mom, so." He put it back up feeling a spark of joy within from Emma's approval.

...

What? Parental approval is still an iota he yearns for.

"And those 5 notches?"

He shrugs downplaying his response, "Symbolic for personal reasons, nothing important."

"Mm-hmm," the manure of bull is high and nigh in the air, that much she can conclude.

Distancing herself from him, Emma reviews her son's outfit and begins noting key things about his wardrobe. First being the assorted blacks and greys he's taken into wearing for a while. 'Dress your mood' is a more than common trait teenagers express; moreover, his mother's accident could've ignited that. Second, his hair… damn Bexton did a good job. Obviously Henry lets it grow out to feel some tether to Regina, so. Third, he always wears long sleeves. So, infers Emma, he either feels insecure about himself in general—which she can understand, cos y'know... teenagers—or he feels insecure about something _on_ him. Something that wasn't to her knowledge before..., but is about to damn right be now. Why? Too much, or some misfortunate amount, of pain has she bared upon her son that isn't forgivable. Hell no will she also be the cause—et add to her 'fuckup' list—of Henry cutting himself, _how many does he have if he has?_ , and dressing how he does. Granted, he looks quite nice today with a knitted grey cardigan and black button-down with fitted black jeans and dress shoes. Also that ring...

 _Wait, stop Swan, you're not here to approve your son's outfit… Though, what if he's doing this for Jay…? No, wait. Cuts. Is he cutting himself?_

"Henry..., show me your sleeves."

Suspicion mars his face, "Why…?"

She stiffens her stance calmly asking, "Just show me." _Please let there be no assertion needed._

" _Emma…,_ " a grape is paused mid-air before entering his mouth.

 _Is he warning me?_

"Sleeves. Now," reproaches she, laying a hand on the island.

Deliberately popping the grape in his mouth for a dramatic and helluva strained pause, he patronizes, "Emma…, _Ma_. I think you're being a bit delusional suspecting something that's not. Have you slept well recently?"

Another effin grape he pops. Suddenly she can feel an acute winding in her jaw. Gradually taking essential steps toward him, Emma digs for her necessary imposing mindset to flow. Funnily enough, out of all her less than resplendent moments the determination she needs just hits her.

"Listen here," her voice gravely hummed as she locked eyes with him. Practically nose-to-nose they were with diamond demeanors; no one could mistake this scene of their biologic relations. "I was serious when I said no more secrets held between us. So, when I say throw down your damn sleeves, throw them down, _son_ , to proudly exempt there's nothing you're hiding so we can start _anew_." Lips giving a precise 'oo' at end. The rest she pierces through her eyes.

Henry still holds ground, but soon dismays and faults a step back.

 _Got you._

Straightaway she makes a snatch for his wrist, succeeding. But only for that half-sec is victory savored before Henry twists his arm and dashes around the island, then climbing the mansion's stairs.

"Ooh, shouldn't have done that now." She, too, swifts to the stairs, her blonde hair bouncing as she tops each one on the prowl for her charming boy. Pupils are practically dilated as they bead onto each door in the corridor, main of all Henry's room. Emma busts right in, thinking this would be the perfect 'Here's Johnny' moment, though holds her tongue for what she really wants to say—tirade.

Proof, just some of that before anything is uttered.

A radical, opposing person, in her opinion, may view the way she's handling this as such a sordid, unethical, immoral approach and "tut-tut, shame on you" way, and blaspheme on such a conniption she's flaunting, that yes, she could be condemned. (Though, who are you to judge?) However, in truth, don't utter that a slither of anger would not snake into you if to find out you've been muse of this boy's pain and should've seen all warning signs of this… _taboo_ marking. Not necessarily saying Swan will unleash her full fury on Henry, just that—

"Henry!" She rounds her head. "Come out, you have school. We have to leave, _now!_ "

Gotta still stay mindful to Hook.

Actually—

" _Ayyy…_ , _Swan…,_ " moans the pirate opening the guest room him and his wife permanently reside. "Why are ye yellin'? The lad's here with me," he cracks the door a split open showing a smug Henry sitting in a chair beside the couple's bed.

"I just... I was trying to…"

"Shhh…." he sways (and misses) a finger to his lips. "I've not a clue what's t'time, but I bloody right know it's not agreeing with me, so _please_." He splayed his hand and signals to decrease her voice.

There feels a knot in her jaw now.

Henry sashays out their room. "Was just telling Hook I'm off to school again and see how's he doing."

She crosses her arms and calls out bull.

" _Shit_ ," Henry nods to Hook while digging his hands in his pockets, "is what he looks like…. Plausible reason to check on him, right?"

The pirate just squints and grunts from the directed insult and concern spoken about him. He's the only odd one out of the two with bed-hair, a rumpled white shirt, while in his boxers still groggy on what's currently happening. Although, out of the trio, he's probably the most innocent one out—just currently.

If Henry, Swan thinks, believes she is not going to bring this up in front of Killian, then he's partially correct, actually. Herself does keep secrets from Hook, though, not everything.

 _Hook's going to know about this sooner or later, so._

"Henry, I think Hook should also be informed on this little secret you have."

 _What the hell?!_ Sweetly thinks Hershey.

Ding and dongs the manor's bell.

 _Oh, that must be Jay_ , thinks nobody since two are unaware of her supposed arrival and the other is working out the kink in her jaw.

"Who's that?"

In response, a long and weary sigh deflates from Swan who can't help but ponder how helpless and pathetic she is. _So close_ to regaining a piece of herself, regardless if it's to admonish. She sums a hanky-high is coming into request. "Jay…"

"She's here?" asks both, one evidently more excited than the other.

"She needed a ride to school, so I offered."

Her husband warms a smile, "How nice." Killian has no 'knots' with Jay, eh.

"I'll get it," Henry offers, thinking how fortuitous this is. At this point, anything beats these two dead blanks. Especially how intent and—born more scorn toward her—bold Emma was, ready to spill the beans on his 'supposed' cuts. 'Beans', he has to think cos today is not a day to lose bearings.

Before Swan has chance to greet the old comer her husband decides to pull her aside lowering his voice. "Emma…, ye don't think it's odd how much the lad and lass," he directs down the stairs, "are in each other's company much, do ya?"

Looking down, Emma shams conjuring up an answer for Hook's relief. The cheeky young woman and Henry do spend a considerable amount of time together, although, Emma is around the majority of the time. Furthermore, if it's not Henry Jay's with, it's usually her. Company goes a long way in Emma's opinion, and she's never been more grateful for Henry to have someone. Bonus being that same person Emma can look to. Yes, the woman's way younger and could relate more to Henry, but still.

"No. Henry has a friend, that's what's important. You of all people should know this." She drilled her jade eyes onto him, invading his space, knowing damn well a nuisance it is to regulate him and Henry's pitiful piss acts.

Of which is "soon" impending…, damn.

"Get a room!" yells everyone's favorite toward the staircase. The two adults make their way down.

"Jay the Grape!" Henry beams tossing up a grape in his hand.

She brandishes a smile his way taking the challenge. "Snack it to me!"

Snap goes her—" _u_ _gh!_ " ...supposedly jaw from catching it, but consequently her head from hitting a wall. All of which Henry guffaws at.

And Killian.

" _Shutup!_ " she rubs her head and glares at the pirate.

He takes root on a stool. "Not me fault you head is damp of nothing."

"Alright," sums Emma. "You two got a busy day, so let's get." Everyone picks at their stuff with Killian watching and waiting for his goodbye kiss.

 _Emma, don't,_ mindfully roots Henry. His mother just needs to act on her feelings and discard the pirate altogether (he still holds disdain to her from that ass move). Yeah, Hook's been on his best behavior here at the mansion, doesn't mean crap still.

Putting her keys in her pocket, her hand brushes against her hanky, then to cling to it as she kisses her husband. "Alright, see you later. And uh…," her voice lowers. "Please don't touch or snoop through anything. I think Henry is gradually trying to put _some_ trust in you, so."

"Worry not Swan. Pirate's honor," he did the scouts sign.

"Where'd you learn that?"

"The telly, nothing special," he shams. "Just be back early so we can do some _daily activities_." 'Course he smarms a smirk.

Of course some bile upshots within her.

 **~Cfys~**

On the road were Swan, Bexton, and Mills (Swextonills) coming in close proximity to the school. Emma was relieved to have a buffer between her and Henry. Said son was occasionally giving his mother the stink eye through the rearview mirror when she was and wasn't looking. When she was, he'd lock contact for only a sec before slipping his attention elsewhere. When she wasn't, he'd glare right at her simultaneously keeping vigilante of his friend. That said, he was also looking at said friend's schedule configuring where they could meet up during the day. And said friend easily noted the relief Emma seemed to be sporting and constant ice stares and skeptical espies Henry was throwing.

"Mind if I turn on the radio?"

Swan shook her head gesturing for her to have at it.

Pulling out the auxiliary cord, Bexton decides to make light of conversation. "Anything special you're doing today Emma?"

"Mm, nope. Nothing much since I'm still stuck on the case." Lies.

"So," she chose a song, "that means you also haven't found any of H's jumpers…?"

 _#Use the sleeves on my sweater_  
 _Lets have an adventure_  
 _Head in the clouds but my gravity centered#_

"Nah, skip," tells Henry.

"Alright. Emma?"

"Uh, no. I haven't crack that either…," she hasn't cracked anything cos there isn't anything to crack with just her side of the story. However, she should be attentive finding her son's suspects. After his confession in the Bug prior, she's been a bit more reserved to at least succeed on bringing the son-of-bitch that jumped Henry to light. _Or would it be daughter-of-bitch?_

"Mm. Well I hope you find either person soon. You both deserve justice." Lo and behold the twists her stomach is gurgling. "Never Forget You?"

"I'm not in a mood to go through the feels…," sighs Emma, already thinking of Regina.

Henry mutters an agreement as well.

"Do you think," starts Jay still scrolling, "That whoever jumped Henry, at least the main jumper, could be the same person to have 'finished' the job on you Emma?"

 _#Climb on board...  
_ _We'll go slow and high tempo...  
_ _Light and dark...  
_ _Hold me hard and mellow…#_

Henry scrunches his face, "Ew, Jay. Not in front of Emma."

"I'm with Henry on this one…," she turns the steering wheel already recalling Hook's final words before she left. "It could be a possibility for us to have the same suspect. I don't know. It's enough as it is with mines and then a gang. But I'd guess it'd be something else if it were that."

Henry dismisses her statement with a shake to his head. He's still reading over Bexton's schedule. "I just want this to be over with. The last thing needed to be heard is the incompetence of the Sheriff's station." Then he peaks, "Hey Jay…, why don't we put on—"

"No."

"But—"

"Give the pilots a break H. Not today, let's not be goners with migraines, 'kay? Emma, preference?"

"Uh—"

"Abba," supplies her son.

"Really? Emma, disco's dead. Stop trying to make it 'stay alive'"

Disco Swoon looks over to the other woman, "Okay, wow! So many things wrong with that statement."

"She called you dust Emma, I think she's right on the money," offers her boy so graciously.

"Why is everyone ganging up on me?"

Bexton shrugs and makes a face, "I think we both get kicks out of it."

Henry nods as well, though his kick is just to see Emma make a fool of herself.

"Fine…. I like Riri," her hands jazz out on the wheel.

"Right then," sums the other already scrolling, "I know which." Henry leans over her shoulder verifying it is the right one.

"Ok, well we're about here." She pulls the Bug up to the front waiting for some cars to move further ahead. "Though, just don't—"

 _#Yayo, yayo  
_ _Moo-la-lah  
_ _Yayo_

"No!" dismays Swan.

"Yes!" cheers both brunettes.

 _Bitch better have my money!_

Was it mentioned the Bug's windows were rolled down? Because no sooner were they getting confounded stares from the outsiders.

"Turn that down!" reprimands Swan.

"What? Turn this 'ish up?" helps Henry. "Jay?" Said women rocks her head to the beat turning up the song. Emma tries and does opposite, but is having her hand being swatted away by Henry. How nice, it's almost like the other day.

 _Who y'all think y'all frontin' on?  
_ _Like brrap, brrap, brrap!_

Rounding the corner of the Bug was a younger grade student's parent with her hands on the child's shoulders. Jay looks over to them and greets them with a warm smile. "How you doin' ma'am? Beautiful day, isn't it?"

 _Shit, your wife in the backseat of my brand new foreign car._

A shocked gasp erupts from the other woman from the blatant profanity uttered. She covers her son's ears and scurries off giving a disgusting twisted scowl to the trio. Henry to think it, the others to say it: " _Bitch_ "

 _Like brrap, brrap, brrap!#_

"Well then, no need to stay here and get the Sheriff in anymore trouble. Thanks for the ride Emma," Jay unbuckles and gets out the car, smiling her appreciation. Even though she could've easily walked, she's Swan's friend too. It wouldn't have been all fair leaving her with Henry, when she does opposite for him.

"Yeah, Emma. See ya." Henry huffs out following suit, but not without a tug to his wrist. "What are you—"

"I am not going to roll down the sleeve," she pinched harder each time he squirmed. "But rather give you the benefit of doubt that there _isn't_ ," she sharps, "any cuts on here, got it?"

Hurriedly he snatches his wrist away giving _her_ benefit of the doubt holding onto his tongue. "Yeah, got it."

* * *

"Right…, why is everyone staring at us?" Not even half-a-day in and Jay could already feel the peer pressure. Who the hell stands this crap?

Henry nonchalantly shrugs keeping his head up and eyes affixed. "You're the new girl, not to mention different, and I'm just the guy who got suspended, his ass kicked, and almost lost his only other parent. Also not to mention I'm besties with the new girl."

"I don't like new settings…," she mutters to him. Following his lead, she too tries to go at this catwalk blasé style.

The teen glances at her, "They're simple-minded; they don't like newcomers. You'll get over it, not to sound like a butt."

"You do sound like a butt," she teases.

"Yeah," he smirks. "Bathroom's right over here, I'll just wait til you're done."

"Ok, cool." thus gone is Jay.

Thus, was a good part of the school day. Not her being gone, but blank stares that he's back and blank gawks that he practically has one of the prettiest girls on his arm—figuratively though. Yet, he'll admit it's nice to boggle the majority of these simpleton's minds on where him and Jay's relationship stands. A long, satisfied breath leaves his lips as he slouches on a nearby wall and eyes his glinting ring. It was cool and tasteful no doubt. Plus the more he looked at it, the more intrigued he was by it. Like where exactly was it from? Who wrought it? And is there anything special that underlies it? Was is a family heirloom, or—

" **Mills!** Oh shit… I mean, I heard you were back, but seeing is believing, right?"

Henry blanches at the given voice. This voice sounded almost entirely close to the one that jumped him. " _Whitney_."

The other teen scowled with disgust at his name address. "It's Winter."

"Attached with Green? Like the gum your shit breath needs?" retorts Henry already getting on the defense. Out of all days, why this one?

Winter stiffened his jaw pushing his tongue against his cheek building up his cocky demeanor, taking defense as well. "I see you're still looking like a bitch. Been knew you was one, just didn't think you'd still rock the look."

Twitching his face into a glower of his own, Henry scolds. "What do you want…?"

The apparent douche power moved the little bitch before him by throwing his arm up and trapping the other. He didn't say anything for seconds before licking his lips and remarking, "You heard 'bout Tobias' death?"

Mills' heart suspends, "What?"

"Yeah, yeah." The other teen nods and forms a smirk. "The little maggot-faggot is dead. Supposedly _'heart attack'_ I heard." His tongue bulges against his cheek again as he reviews Henry. "Of course, for all we know he probably just couldn't take the anomaly he was and so _took_ something…"

Sharpening his posture, Henry attempts to overshadow the bully, "Or are we sure it wasn't you? For all we know, you could've been reason he 'probably' ended it."

"Watch you tongue _Prince_ ," he growls. "I may have convictions…, but I ain't no killer."

"That's weaved bullshit and you know it," the Sheriff's son grits and takes a step forward.

"The only person weavin' that is you. 'fraid to come out the closet...?"

"If so, it gives you capable reason to jump someone."

This humpback piece of shit, Henry more than spitefully thinks, is reason for the majority of his school life misery. Tobias was the only fewest handful that willingly conversed with him without the unnecessary prejudice. Why wasn't he informed of the other's death? News like that would travel if wasn't told to yet, right?

Doing that pet peevish wipe to his nose, Winter reduced his voice to a threatening level. "You really think you have the balls to accuse me of murdering one of the most filthy cretins I've ever came across…? Besides _you_?"

Hardening his eyes even more, Henry only asserts. "Difference is, you don't know my sexual orientation and you hell of won't." He inched closer to Gums' face. "But Tobias' you did know. Anyone is capable of anything _Whitney_ , 'long they're in the right mindset. And you being the crooked ass you are, my money's all on it." Huffing his chest, Henry stood back.

"Just cos you up and forth after a jump don't mean shit, Mills. You're the Prince of _Darkness_ , so anything you do or say will backfire against you, regardless. So you better watch what you say and do, or else I'll show you how to properly kneel…," his lips then moved the brunette's ear harshly seething the rest, "just like the _queer_ _you_ _**are**_."

The Prince's left hand twitched, a small light flashing from his ring only a sec. "...I choked you once, I'll do it again." And low did he seethe, "With only _**me**_ perfectly breathing."

Both males lifted their chins expecting the other to throw the first punch, only to have ample excuse to cause "self-defense". Winter's eyes lucidly expressed the mirth at whooping Her majesty's son and proudly taking title of it. Oh, only if he was the one to have jumped Henry Mills' sorry ass. To have been savagely cruel to this circus freak was too much of a dream to surpass. But he'll make light of this situation now.

Henry is not going to get in a fight first day back. _I am_ _not_ _going to_ _ **kill**_ _this inverted homo…_ Thinking this, he has nothing but the ring to distractedly wrench in order to simmer his anger. Although, how great would it be to supply a clear and precise indentation on Winter's cheek? It's nicely chiseled, shaped, and clean…, something that pleasing just needs an imperfection, a flaw. It's just the natural order of life, yes?

From both these thoughts, the first person to lift their arm and implant their own justice was—

" _ **Hey!**_ _What the hell?!_ " Jay sandwiched between the two imposing figures and reflected an equally contempt stare to the both. One hand lightly on Henry's chest while the other close to jabbing Winter's.

The latter of whom faintly quivering before the petite, but feisty woman. He looked repeatedly from her to Henry having to then ask how they know each other.

"None of your damn business, that's how. Now get the fuck outta here before I personally tear you a new one, _again!_ " Spits her. "Charcoal your ass and all." She darkens the rest with a look making truth to her threat.

Winter carefully steps back, his twisted smug highlighting as he direct eyes to Henry. "Now you have a personal servant to do your bidding you're too chicken at, Mills?" Disgustingly he then adds with a smirk, "Or should I say slave?"

Pounce she went, " _Oh hell no_ —"

"No, no, no, Jay." Henry grabs at her waist trying to restrain her.

Winter checks of a cocky salute then disappears around a corner.

Henry downs a look onto her. "You and I both know that neither of us can afford a fight right now. "

"I'm not afraid," she heats and starts a little pace.

"No, you're not…. But you have a parent that works here, and then there's Emma. She'd be disappointed at us both. So," he raises his brows to clarify if she understands.

She indicates at nowhere with her arm adding raised brows of her own. "So you was just going to let him throw the first punch?!"

Henry picks his bag up and slings it over his shoulder. "No, but he didn't though. Did he?" And implies for them to start walking.

"He could've." she sours and follows suit.

"But he didn't."

"But he could've."

"Yeah, Jay, but he didn't. That's what kind of matters for us to keep clean on our records here." He twirls his head to indicate the school. "It would've been different if I discovered he was my jumper. I don't think mercy could've been given."

Following from that statement, Jay could only arrest her steps creating a loud and distinct squeak in the long hall. Guilt and shame is joyously cascading in her suddenly. "Right…. Go hard or discard…," she bleaks.

"Ooh, I like that. It's like 'go big or go home', but more…you?" he offered a small smile to set her at ease.

She gradually resumes her shuffling beside him once more. "I am grape."

"The grapest of them all. Jay the Grape, bringing citrus splendor and peace to all! Y'know how wine and—"

"Yeah I know," she chuckles from his explaining. "But mess with me and you'll be _peeled_."

"That's the spirit." He plays a shove to her. "Though, how do you know him…? Winter?" They begin climbing stairs.

"Um…"

* * *

 **Past**

"So then his punk ass screamed like a bitch, like-like dude, you have to hear how he screams. Sound's like a damn pussy I'm tellin' you."

"Eheh!" A friend of Winter's amusingly chuckled swaying a bit. "Like how we got Tobias' queer ass!"

"Exactly!" excites the other. "Remember how he'd try to throw that punch at me? Like man—"

"Yeah," agreed the listener. "You totally sicked his ass. Screamed like a bitch he did, ha!"

Strolling up in her classic Timbs, Jay bops her head to her other addictive song on loop and low-key tops the lyrics, "# _House so empty need a centerpiece/ Twenty racks a table cut from ebony/ Cut that ivory into skinny pieces/ Then she clean it with her face but I love my baby (baby)_ " This song so smooth she just can't stop.

"I also heard the little bitch is cooped up with his mommy thinking he's all safe. Bet Henry's a fag too, I just know it…."

However, stopping for jackasses making uncorroborated presumptions can be made an exception. "Excuse me," she slows up to them lowering her volume, "are you guys talking about Henry Mills and his mom?"

One of the guys who also laughed than spoken decides to scorn, "Yeah, know them?"

"'Bout too, and would appreciate it if you stopped with the slurs." She analyzed all three douche faces.

Winter shakes his head admonishing her words. "Oh don't tell me you're a lesbian too. Man," he sucks his teeth, "I can't get with you bitches, y'all just indecisive."

Irritation slicked on Bexton's face. "I'm surprised something repulsive as you would know that word." Her eyes roved up and down at him, only then to zone in on his shoes. _Ooh…_ She loves her Timbs, but those would make a lovely addition….

Winter leans off the wall. "What'd ya say?"

"Mmm, shit you wouldn't understand amigo." She wants those shoes…

 _I want those—_

Someone stupidly pipes in, "You better watch what you say or you're gonna get slap."

"What?" Her eyes widened with astonishment. "You would hit a girl? What the hell, were you dropped on your heads? You know what, that was stupid of me to ask. Apparently y'all were. I'm sorry; my bad," she raised her hands to show her sincerity.

" _You stupid_ —"

Backhand bitchslap she salted to dumbass no.3 who stooped to the ground squealing from the taste of blood in his mouth. Dumbass no.2 in a swift pressed himself against Jay from behind clutching at her waist lifting her up for Winter to get at. Winter, already getting in position, fails to see the heavy smoke puffed at his eyes followed to sting.

" _Ahh!_ " he humbles over rubbing at the overbearing ash in his eyes.

"You bitch!" no. 2 venoms out trying his hardest to contain a squirming Jay. "Stay still!" They then both tumble down onto the concrete then to fluster at each other even more. Both were trying their damnest to usurp the other; him trying to turn her over and lock her hands, her trying to kick him off her. At once it was the former to dominate, grabbing both the woman's hands and pinning them down beside her.

"There…" he sneers looking over her face then leers ravishingly down her body. "I think I prefer this way…, Winter, you want first go?" The hostile expression on Jay's face instantly melted from the double entendre of the other's words. She was told not to use her abilities, but exceptions have to be made. Eyes glowed the slightest of amber and her hands and wrists illuminated a faint purple turning to red scalding hot orange.

" _What are your hands…_ ," her offender's words diminishes to nothing until he lets out a long and howling shriek jumping right off her and a foot in the air from his bubbling hands. With only daftness in his mind he blows retardedly at his third-degree burns thinking this is an absolute remedy. Winter, already up, stares with horrid amazement at what became of his friend's hands and follows with making a bolt for it, scurrying from Jay.

Up to now she swore not to let her anger get best of her, wanting to display to father—erm…, master, err— _partner_ that she can be better than her preceding ways and so on, but...

" _ **Hey!**_ " She fumingly growls at a sprinting Winter, that is until the one she slapped came into her peripheral trying to follow with a dash of his own. Ruefully peeling her eyes off the former, all attention is zoomed on this other fuckery who is so, _so_ stupid trying to climb a gated fence.

Immediately slowing herself down from gravity with her Timbs clomping loud on the ground, Jay bunches two handfuls of this other fuckery's jacket and pulls down **_hard_** to compel him to get the fuck down.

" _You misogynistic waste of a low-life bedpan fuck!"_

 ** _*kick*_**

" _Agh!"_

"You honestly thought you can—"

 _ ***stomp***_

 _"Ugh!"_

"try to beat a woman _up…?_ "

It's far enough taking sexist comments, wanton leers, and lingering mistrustful glances—prejudice in general—from nitwit asinine people thinking they're always better than you in some divine, sovereign way; cos of their skin; their origin; their social and economic status, etc. etc. Or their educated, erudite views on the world and topics in general like their effin' Plato, Da Vinci, Galileo. She's had enough. "You mothafuckin' toerag ass—" _***kick***_ "abomination—" _***kick***_ " _cesspool dick_!"

 _ ***kick***_

 _ ***kick***_

 _ ***kick***_

The gate was giving a racketed rattling; out no.3's mouth there was blood and spit splattering; Jay certainly thought it looked more than flattering.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm—"

"Get up!" She furies out her teeth scruffing him at the neck then lunging him at the gate, the fence itself resounding a pleasing jingle. Blazing malice courses throughout her veins giving such a sensation that was in her nature to yearn. If only she could give into her natural ways this jackass here would in seconds be decimated. Although...burnt alive on a _spit_ (the gate) has a much better connotation and sizzle to it. Just thinking this the leathery bat fiend had to exhale a small ash cloud. She will  not give in to her natural form.

"Take off you shoes."

The guy playdoughed to the gate tremors from the command. "W…what? Look, look...I-I-I… I can get you—"

Similar to a switch, Jay flips the pathetic nitwit and solids in a square punch on his face, causing him to lag at the concrete. Red never looked better on her victim, yet if she considers Hen—

"Ok, ok, ok!" he puts out his hand signaling he'll more than cooperate.

All of a sudden he tries to take off again stumbling on his feet one too many times to actually gain some distance. At which she thrusts him at the gate again then gives a gut hurtling kick.

"Either you give me the shoes, or I'll kill you," she breathed out with an adrenaline confirming nod. "Yup, yup. I'll kill you, I'll kill your friends, I'll go for your loved ones. Give me the shoes. _Give me the shoes!_ " Only look sponsoring way at her eyes was the almost look of craze.

The timorous whisker-haired teen kept at mutters of 'ok' with wet and loud sniffles while struggling off his shoes. Arm's lunging out saying 'take them' quickly zipped back to its owner.

Jay took the shoes loosely examining the emblem on them. "What are these," she huffs, "what's the name…?"

The inferior also kept at stutters and beads of sweat from the overwhelming question.

"Doesn't matter. You getting your ass handed and _these_ ," she showcased her new kicks, "are minor reparations from the other two. And uh…," she needs to catch her breath. Too much feelings made noticed in these lasting minutes. "Yes, right…, don't speak of this… _oh my god…_ this Henry Mills and uh…, Emma," that was a personal request, "out in public again. Or I will kick the living shit out of you again." A hand rested on the gate helping its owner's dizzying brain out. "Well no. I'll get this other guy to get at you…. He's less sympathetic." Her male body could've been now useful.

"Ok, yeah, yeah!" he eagers, instinctively trying to scuttle away, which with a nod from her he does. More like hobbling though.

Blowing a long and hard [twss] sigh, Bexton returns back to the scene of her assault to collect her bag and phone. Before that, she sits on the pavement setting ponder stares at her new shoes. _Is it that basketball man…?_ Doesn't matter, she shakes, she'll have someone to consult all her questions to in a short while.

In the meantime, she needs to take her time to the loft and catch her cool again. Fixing her bag with Swan's jacket in it, and resuming her song, she heads way for the promises of the future.

# _Everyday a niqqa try to test me, ah  
Everyday a niqqa try to end me, ah  
Pull off in that Roadster SV, ah  
Pockets overweight, gettin' hefty, ah_ _#_

So smooth and true she can't stop, hopefully there ain't anymore jackasses to add to that decree.

* * *

 **Present**

"...y'know, I can't recall. I just recall getting on a friend of his I guess and… uh, bad mouthing them? Nothing much, nothing else." Up spontaneously went her hand, like that's the easiest she can give. Who goes around parading their Jumps anyway?

Henry gives a mere shrug to her words but can't stop from adding, "I feel like there's more you're not saying. Like, way more."

Inwardly biting her lip, she gives a blasé shrug. "Nothing to worry over Hershey, I can handle myself."

"Yeah, I know." He glints at her, "But we're friends. You gotta start telling me things at one point, or else…," bated his words.

Jay reduces her steps from his threatening tone? No, that's not it. "Or what?" hands tug at the straps of her bag while feet softly bop.

"Well…," he too graduated his steps looking back at her. Little to no people were swimming in the halls, but those who were instantly skirted furthest from the Bexton-Mills pair. One's the new girl, they think, who's also hanging with the Evil Queen's son. What's up with that?

He starts off again. "Well…, we hang a lot—"

"I also hang with Emma."

He flicks a scowl. "I know."

"Yeah, well I don't feel obligated to tell her anything private, so."

"Okay…," he lows, "but she's not one to tell stuff to. Out of all people you know this."

"What? Because I'm entitled to listen to your complaints?"

"No," he takes a step to her. "Although if it feels like that, maybe we can even the weight if you tell me more."

"Like what?"

"No, no, no." A finger raises. "You're not going to play dumb." This is followed with a _don't-shit-at-me_ toss of face. "All I'm saying is if you're giving me jewelry," flourished his ring he did, "I at least deserve more facts about you other than you're from the woods."

She scoffs. "What? Because you're the author and so you gotta keep tabs on everyone?"

Henry scans the hall then invades his cheeky friend's space. She has to look up to him slightly, and he down to her. "If there's something you have to say, spit it out now." Desert and jade eyes clasp on one another for scrutinizing seconds. Electricity is crackling around them, yet it's not fervor passionate type.

As a matter of fact, she does have something to tell. A very important note. _I'm the conceited ass that jumped you._ "I…"

 _Am not a suspect for your mother's supposedly death._ "think…"

 _You'll hate me if I tell you the truth._ "Your outfit is very nice. 'Specially your shoes and your hair, nice effort." Three nice affirmations for three converse thoughts; "think the positive out the negative" a pipe-induced caterpillar once told her. Barely bashing an eyelash at him, Jay maintains holding her severe eye-contact. Yet, second by second she witnesses the strained hostility in his eyes trickle down to his usual dull jades.

When she's not with him, conversely they're twinkling crystals, just like his mother's after odd moments.

Regardless though, perspective differs. One person down the hall peeping at the new girl and Dark Prince is betting they'll kiss (hopeless romantic). Another is waging some fistfight is going to spasm from the two (hopeless instigator). Yet, there is another having differing thoughts. Thoughts like this is enough and his daughter is getting the better of herself. _What's she doing?_

"Jay…." Mr. B chimes, but lightly scolds.

Quite noticeably, from everyone's vision, the said woman straightens her spine with feet together. Her challenged look toward Henry is tipped to concentration with eyes pinpointing on the bridge of his nose. Nothing fleets from this student's rigid posture and taut expression.

Fleeting away from Henry's mind, though, is this wild composure his friend just rightfully adopted.

Continuing the light scold, Ahijah candidly inquires. "I do hope you were explaining to Mr. Mills the bump of his session like I told you earlier?" Smooth as leather, coupling with an acquired richness of satin was this man's voice. Why has Henry sworn he heard it before? Along with this man's look?

"Yes, uncle. I was doing just that."

 _Uncle…?_ "I thought he was your—"

"Father? At intriguing moments, yes. However, she is adopted. But I have no qualms providing the fatherly demeanor if called upon. Now," his eyes set stoned to the mentioning woman, "if you may, I would like to see Mr. Mills for our session. Say your goodbyes then trot along to your class I believe you are _disappointingly_ late to."

"But—" she broke trying to explain only to which he pivoted letting the door halfway shut.

Henry only gawked between brunette and look-alike guardian. Perhaps he should say something.

Jay mumbles 'bye Hershey' with a cast head then vanishes around the corner to another agonizing pubescent class.

It's so lovely to feel like a jerk at times like these, settles Hershey, that it's just too sweet an offer to decline the subsequent reflection.

 _Well she started it..._  
 _Yeah, but she just got embarrassed in front of one of the only people she likes…._  
 _But she started it…._

Shaking loose and knocking on the door, Mills only dreads of what this session could become.

* * *

 **UnderBrooke**

"Look up."

She looked up.

"Down."

Down.

"Open your mouth"

"…"

Lucien sighs and gives a stern look, "C'mon, I don't have all day now."

The other stared defiantly back. Petulant this may be, but whatever. She's forever stuck in this hell hole, the least rebellion she can do is resist. "Mnh-mnh."

Another frustrated breath released from his lips. This woman was stubborn alright. "Right… forgive me." Unexpectedly he grabs Regina's hair and harshly pulls it back causing her to hiss, at which he sticks a thermometer in her mouth.

"Close," he commands.

A gust of air speeds out her nose with her eyes fixed on the man towering over her. Nothing but pure disdain is what she feels toward this man. How did she ever come across him?!

Again he repeats the command, noticeably with a glint of gold in his eyes. Begrudgingly she listens this time and let's the thermometer do it's thing. Both are just holding each other's stares until the device beeps.

He lets go of her taking a step back at which she intercepts a swat at him. Lucien just glances at her going over the little clipboard of her health that's written.

"So…," he flips a page (she flips the bird), "your health seems to be the same as last. That's good, you're ready for next to come."

"And what's that?"

He glances at her again, "Nothing to worry over 'til push comes to shove."

She crosses her arms and bows her head, "Anymore vague you can be?"

"Besides wearing this mask and going by first name basis, no."

"Lucien is a stupid name anyway…," she grumbles.

Ignoring the juxtaposition statement, said man summons a stool and sits across from Regina. The act of magic done by him makes her cringe a bit given their connection. In no way could she remember of how he obtained a morsel of her magic. Every time she did try, a sharp pain would needle her mind giving more life to that damn stupid voice. Speaking of which…

"How are your thoughts?" Lucien starts.

Her arms still crossed, she shrugs. What's it to him?

"You're aware that it's not my doing, right?" He leans over the stool trying to gain her attention.

It's odd their relationship. It's not a love or hate thing, although she does really despise the man, but something more she can't hint on. Although, that doesn't change the fact he can shove it elsewhere for all she cares.

"Why am I here?" she grunts.

His brow raises, "I thought you wanted to be back in the mansion?"

"No," she shakes her head. "Why aren't I in Elysium or at least engulfed in flames for my wrongdoing?" Red begins to rim her eyes.

This catches Lucien off, at which he frowns to her. "Regina…," he made a reach for her hand, but thought of better. "You are probably the strongest person I've met. You and this one infuriating woman from my other life another time ago…," he scowls at the thoughts but continues. "Regardless of the now, I think you can overcome anything." Sincerity shone in his eyes.

She silently nodded while wiping her nose quickly. "So, if I were to somehow defeat you…?"

"I'd be pissed, but should've expected it," he truths.

"Yeah, well." She combs a hand through her hair and looks straight on at him. "Tell me all this 'torturing' has at least a purpose to it."

Lucie tilts his head pretending confusion, "Was sadism neglected from the traits of villains?"

She doesn't say anything, just retreats into herself again.

"Right," he blows out standing, "it's all for reason. And not just restricted to selfishness." He peers down at her, "All of us have a purpose in this," then leaves via door than using magic.

Purpose-shmerpose, she's damn tired of being dead and held in captivity. Something needs to be done, but she just doesn't know what. Like how can she gain that tidbit of magic Lulu stole from her (Lulu cos Lucien is a stupid name, she liked earlier claimed, but there are sporadic urges to call him Lucie or Lulu. She can't explain why though.) without injuring herself? If she did try, how deleterious would the pain be? Or would it just disturb the voice in her head more? Even if she succeeds, what then? Hades is M.I.A. (regretfully to an extent) and she's unsure of what she's to atone for in order to move forward. In addition, Lucien knows her almost every move.

"Ugh!" she fumes out. "This is useless. I'm practically in a destitute position; checkmate. Ugh!"

If she's right, usually after these little 'checkups' she involuntarily goes under a deep sleep consisting of her abhorrent nightmares. Standing from her dining room chair and climbing her rotating staircase, Regina's eyes set upon a door she hasn't given much though to. Only because she can't stand the pins and needles that cradles her heart when thoughts lead to Henry. Her boy. The once wee infant that entered her bleak and dullish life painting vibrant and interesting colors she never thought she's ever deserve or obtained. Already tears unshed in her eyes, obscuring her vision of the corridor and his door. Nothing could place the heartfelt of words she desperately wishes she can say to him. A proper dear goodbye, or a lip-trembling hello. Anything she'd give to wallow him in an overwhelmed hug while tousling his hair endearingly. Anything to hear how his day went: the good, the bad, anything and everything. His eased and gentle smile with the gleeful twinkle in his eyes. That bashful smile from Neal, the sparkle in his eyes from Emma and the Charmings, and his overall genuine character from she herself. She won't even see him grow up… see the good he's doing for the town… take a girl to prom! All because she _died_.

How heinous that currently sounds: _dying_. Flies drop dead; animals drop dead; wicked and good beings drop dead; technology has its come and go; hell, a story begins and ends. Overall, everything comes to an end. But oh so at the wrong moments is what nobody can properly fathom. Why can't their be an adequate time to choose when our death happens? Why forgo with the notion that it's just our time and it is what it is? One could argue she lived a decently long life, provided she was frozen in time. Another could call malarkey, that why wouldn't the former be appalled that she didn't get to see more of her son's life? Hence, only three answers could be summoned: 1. agreement with the latter. 2. a viable reason for their own argument. or 3. a quibble (in other words: Got bull?).

She misses her son… the closest person she had for family for years. Her heart aches and love drains the longer she's here. Elysium or engulfed in flames will take her woes away.

 _•Or ending yourself….•_

She neither retreats in her room, nor in Henry's. Instead, she hugs herself around her waist withdrawing in herself and her knitted shawl. Slate gray it was…, something Henry would don nicely. Maybe she can knit something alike for him? Make it a tad big if estimating his current size?  
Maybe she can slide down his door and slumber for a bit because of those checkups. Then have her nightmares where expectantly in the end she'll do a naysay act to wake, that results in repercussions like creeping to physical and mental damage. Or maybe she'll dream of doing something splendid with Henry for a split-oblivious-second…. Yeah, that's sounds easy and promising, and maybe she'll let this glimmering tear and the next to come streak her cheeks as she involuntarily relents to slumber…

* * *

"So, uh, where exactly is she from? Or, um what is she?" Henry fidgets at his sleeves.

"Jay's Persian, along with me." Mr. Barmaki smoothly replied.

"Oh, she's right then…"

"Mmm. Shocker?" the magician lazily swivels in his chair, resting an arm on the handle.

"Uh, no. She did say something about um…," this man is making Henry nervous. "About being Iranian, so."

Ahijah used his other hand to cover his mouth a bit letting a little grin let loose, "Interesting isn't it?" Certainly he wasn't going to be the one pushing this fragile boy out his comfort zone, but even then this was very amusing to him.

Sounds of a hard drive whirring and the spirit of school bustling only offered the noise between the two for quite an uncomfortable amount of seconds. Phones ringing and a copy machine Xeroxing the next room over was humming away for the both still challenging the other's vowed momentary silence. This was practically a stalemate; so many questions from one, and so little from the other. Therapy the day prior was gagging, Henry thinks. No progression was being made between him and Emma besides their shared video game file and trying to hold his tongue from Hook and townspeople. Relieving information to a stranger concerning his thoughts and feelings presently was also gagging. Archie was enough, but now this? Each new and upcoming day Henry's supposed to be healing over his mother's death, biting the bullet of the remains, instead though, it feels like a sort of relapse. First it was an innocent thought that moseyed through, almost anyone has it. Then it became an idea, almost reality; he tugs a bit harsh at his sweater's sleeve.

"This means…" he drawled and looked to the counselor, "you're land's stories are from One Thousand and One Arabian Nights?"

The counselor nods.

"Are you from a story?"

"Mmm, and then some. Guess," he swivels again. He could already see the subtle interest lighting in the boy's eyes.

Henry thinks over his answer struggling a bit. There's only a few he's familiar with, but there's one all know about. "Aladdin?"

Only reply he gets is the counselor raising his eyebrows. "If so, what character?"

The brunette shrugged, "I don't know…. Jafar? At least a bit aged."

The other man mocks a snort, "What? I'm not worthy enough to be Aladdin?" he splayed to his chest

The teen shook his head smirking, "No… If someone were to be Jafar, it'd be you." He slowed a bit evaluating next he say. "You got the hair—"

"Like yours?" interrupts Mr. B.

"Almost," he sassed. "There's also the perfectly trimmed goatee… probably stature too," he cocked his head squinting. "Say: 'I despise that street rat'"

He easily repeated the words, putting a little spit on 'despise'.

"Yep," Henry nods. "You could definitely be him."

"Hmm." Ahijah swiveled, sharp was the boy in many ways. "And of Jay?"

A helpless shrug gave life to Henry's thoughts regarding the question. That, he couldn't even put a finger on. "Mystery. It's all about the now with her," he shrugs again.

"Right." The counselor shifts in his seat thinking over what does his 'daughter' say to Henry. The young woman is anything than stupid, daft, impish, etc. Impulsive maybe, he nods, but even so, he enjoys to think he taught her much. Along with his friend impairing his decadent wisdom on the fiery young woman. _What is that toxic feline up to?_ "I've seen you made her upset."

Henry alarms at the mention of this. "Um, yes sir. I am sorry for—"

"Stop. There will only come one person in your life you'll refer to as 'sir' with every word out your mouth. I'd say relish in your freedom now before you begin uttering that dreaded word." He points a stare at Henry to actually imply what he's saying is true.

To which Henry pales at just thinking of the prospect where he'll have no option but to direct that sort of respect to someone.

"However, if I know my niece properly she will withdraw in herself further than called for, depending on the height of your quarrel. Nothing much can be done if it's catastrophic." He stands and rounds his desk leaning on it in front of Henry. He then crosses his arms looking down on him. "You're better burnt to a crisp to her sake than standing."

"Uh—" stumps Henry from the possibilities Jay would do to him.

"She likes food Mr. Mills. So I'd advise you do something regarding that to keep her on your good side than something you nor I want to see."

The young brunette nods eagerly from the other's advice. Jay's his only friend, why'd he want to mess that up?

Mr. B then gets on point. "Obviously you're here cos your mother thought I could help you. So, where would you like to start?"

In a switch Henry's wallowing posture poses to rigid and defensive, and a scowl overtakes his face as he's readily to rebuke the counselor's statement. This, Ahijah thinks, is what he wants. This demeanor ready to challenge the formidable.

"Can I leave," states Henry.

The other man coolly looks behind him pushing some papers on the desk with a sundry of information regarding the school, students, and little scribbles of personal notes. One of them faintly reading _'Blood'_. "No, you may not. I heard of your little mishap with Archie and your mom. One could tsk at that Henry." Eyes roll back onto the star suspect.

Henry subtly gulps at the dull stare Mr. B is boring onto him, as if he should be ashamed from his little incident. "I don't think that's any of your business, no offense."

"Mm. It is when you're in my office."

"Then I'll guess I'll leave." Henry stands.

"I'll call your mother—" he knows that won't work.

"Go ahead." Already the teen is slinging his bag.

"You'll be suspended," almost there.

The other shrugs, what couldn't be better than an extended vacation? Opening the door he—

"I'll make sure that my daughter never contacts you ever again." Small thanks to Killian keeping tabs on Henry's friendship with Jay.

The distinct noise of chatter in the hall is clipped as Henry closes the door; he then sits back down with his bag on his lap pointedly staring at it.

Pulling his chair around, Ahijah takes seat close to the prodigy. "I think… I think we got off at the wrong foot here Henry. Don't see me as Dr. Hopper or anyone you spite. Think of me as…," he bobbed his head trying to find his words, "your Vizier."

The young brunette doesn't say anything except focus on the light feeling of drowning in his chest. _I really do have to go through this again…. What's wrong with me? _Once more he tugs at his sleeve feeling an itching sensation from his wrists.

Seeing the fallen face on the teen before him, the Vizier decides best to wrap this up. Like earlier thought of: he wasn't going to be the one pushing this fragile boy out his comfort zone. "I think we should wrap this up for today. You probably have much assignments to catch up in and I don't want to get in the way of that. But please don't forget Henry—"

Said boy looks at the counselor. He hopes his tears aren't noticeable in his eyes currently; he just can't take that there's something wrong with him and no one seems to care enough, or at least in the right way.

"I… can hear your thoughts you fell to share, and provide advice, feedback, or even anything in general." he splayed his hands. "You can contact me whenever you like than just these limited sessions. The point is, I am here." He holds eye contact with the other to convey his candor.

With his head bowed, Henry manages a subtle nod. Already feeling a mortify, he timidly asks, "Can um… I don't feel really comfortable walking to class myself. Can you uh…,"

"Call Jay?"

Again he nods.

Ahijah stands and rounds to his desk before coming up with keys. "I can't disrupt her learning right now as she's mid of class. But I'd be happy to walk you to yours. Come." He gestures to the door, then locks his office as him and Henry step out now walking down the hall.

 _There's the new counselor and the Prince of Darkness-_

 _Evil Queen's son-_

 _the Dark Prince-_

 _the Sheriff's son,_ thinks each student that's occupying the same hall as well. _What's wrong with him?_ they all ignorantly think.

He can never just be Henry.

Both arriving at the designated room, Mr. B then says, "Listen Henry, I can understand what it's like to be the odd one out. The feeling of neglect and possibly chagrin toward the world is something you shouldn't have to go through alone. My door is always open to you at your whim; never be afraid." He puts his hand on the younger's shoulder and squeezes it.

"Thanks Mr. B, I'll try my best."

"Don't try Henry, just do. If we tried at things, nothing would ever get done and be succeeded. Impulsive acts can sometimes bring positive outcomes. Just _try_ to be rational about it." He then nods toward the door at which Henry can see Bexton in the far back constantly drooping her eyelids at something projected on the board.

Her guardian scoffs. "For someone so energetic, she can easily be bored. Give her this lollipop will you?" He reaches in his pocket using his magic to conjure the sugary treat and hands it over.

"Yeah," he takes it then says, "Thanks again. I look a bit forward to next time now." Henry cracks a smile. Then he enters the classroom, ignoring the raised brows from others, and shoves the unwrapped lolli into his friend's mouth from which she wakes and warms a smile.

Jafar looks at the powerful pair before summoning his cane and walking down the hall, already thinking next to come.

|-/


	17. Chapter 17

**Chp16's up if u dk. Ugh! I mean... these damn chps man. They're effin long! It used to be difficult writin' 3k, now it's difficult keeping it under 7k** — **a good chp being 5k. Like...gosh! There's just so much info and various conflict I have to give be4 I can ax it down. Good news is that climax is anon coming. I can't wait, can u?**

* * *

One time in Manhattan over on the Upper West Side, Emma Swan could not help herself from the succulent smells coursing down some crowded part in Central Park. The aroma was so mouthwatering and enticing that she hurriedly ditched her stakeout on some douche avoiding payments for a boat, and used her tracking skills to hunt down the targeted food-truck. When she found it, it was to her disappointment that there was already an overwhelming crowd huddling around it. But that didn't sway her, no. She was a kick-ass bail bondswoman with gorgeous blonde hair and a befitting red leather jacket. She was her own woman, power over herself and all. Gone was that timid foster child then to cocoon into a scrappy teenager fighting for the last morsel of food her or that other child hadn't chance to eat. Or rather consume given the foster system. Either way, Emma Swan was no more the ugly duckling but the beautiful Swan. The hardships she went through molded her into the woman she dreamt of being since she can summon her first thought.

That said, she patiently rooted spot behind the umpteenth person waiting for their Italian hotdog and thought the rewards that'll be bequeathed to her from gorging on the expected meal. Things like a satisfied stomach, an elated disposition from this day on, exploding taste buds, gracious thoughts of how blessed she is to be born here in the Americas and having the opportunity to indulge in something so delectable. Thoughts like that she will happily reminisce on at a random moment like shuffling papers; running for that douche trying to escape his child-support payments; or maybe, just maybe, being in company of her biological parents only then to have the thought spur where then she can voluntarily share it. No one questioning it because, "Hey! Why not hear about our daughter's ventures in the Big Apple?" Thoughts like these making a lasting impression 'til you wither in age rocking in your chair on your porch while looking at the big blue sky. Thoughts like these.

By the time it's her turn, Emma giddies of the aspect tasting something so precious that'll give her taste buds taste buds of their own; cheering her for choosing something mouth exploding. The guy to take her order—raven hair slicked back in glossing gel, a thin gold chain dangling from his neck, and a welcoming smile with a glint in his eyes from the radiance she exudes—tries to talk her up and how they should grab a bite together at some point. He wasn't bad looking, she'll admit, and he did seem charming, but he seems the type that'll want sole control over her every move and want to be depended upon; she denies his advance. Taking the godsend food from the playfully pouting guy, she nods her sincere thanks and finds a nice nook of a building she can relish in watching the pedestrians. She loves NY, it's just so diverse and different, and sort of easy to belong. She's humbled to be here.

A little girl with her mom passes Emma and compliments her on her golden locks, Emma honestly compliments the little girl's braids and beads, both giving a joyous giggle. Now both their moods are elated for the day. And already her own taste buds are doing minor explosions from the food in her hands. All that's left is a satisfied stomach and this moment from hereon to randomly appear and comfort her from that one time she ate that scrumptious hotdog. She downs the food in record time with no questioning looks or anything alike, she's on ecstasy for the rest of the day.

The next morning Emma wakes up and flees to her bathroom vomiting the hotdog from the other day. She's probably sick.

She's not sick, the doctor told her otherwise. In fact, he told her food poisoning and that she'll basically feel like crap for days and will need that abhorrent pink medicine, or something other. Doesn't matter, now from here on until she's dead the only thought that'll sporadically manifest she held so highly will be that one time she got food poisoning from that traitorous Italian hotdog. What girl? What humbleness? She got the worst nightmare of food poisoning yet! Bah to those other 'splendid thoughts'.

* * *

David waves his hand over his daughter's face to which she still doesn't answer. He then snaps thinking this will throw her out her thoughts, but fails. "Emma? Sweetheart?"

Swan, still as a statue, can feel the sour churning her stomach's happily doing from her reeling thoughts and current situation she's in with her father. Granny Lucas is across from her with the diner's counter being barrier, but only thing Swan can think is that damn hotdog and the nightmarish feeling from the food poisoning. She finally decided to let on to her father the lead she had received from Granny prior and that they should probably check it out. Because she's a good detective much thinks. Because she wants to see justice be bought down for her and her son from their accident. Because she cares for these townsfolk and wants to keep them safe from this tragedy her and her son went through.

Well, this will be a good laugh never when they know it's not all what they think. Actually, maybe a light chuckle can get her out the pickle she's in. She doesn't want to look foolish from thinking of that one thought concerning food poisoning. "Uh, what did you say?" she lightly chuckles. "Henry told me something earlier today and I forgot about it until now."

"Mhmm." Granny started wiping the counter. "I said your suspect probably works up at the ranch. He came in not long ago caking mud all over here; a good chastise I gave him."

David nods, appreciating her info and has to coerce Emma a bit to head in the truck. The weather was getting a bit chilly, so the patrol car wasn't the one to drive. While they're on the road, Emma can't help thinking over that they're actually doing this. She's _really_ doing this. She's about to put an innocent man that nowhere fits her description into jail. This is getting out of hand, where does she stop? Why won't she stop? Why not just tell her loving parents who are the most compassionate people she can ever wish to be related to about her little 'suicide' attempt? Perhaps she won't even be condemned.

She tentatively says, "Hey Dad?"

He glances at her signaling he's listening.

"What are you views on suicide?" she subtly bites her lip.

"Uh, well that's a very delicate topic, you know?" he quizzes a look to her.

"Yeah, I do. But if someone close to you were to try at it then—"

"I'd deny it."

"What?"

David stays silent a few seconds letting the mild bumps in the road do the talking. "I… would deny it."

Did she even her right? "What do you mean 'deny it'?"

"What I mean is…," it was already enough for him to see Henry beaten to a bloody pulp, then see that someone, too, gotten to Emma having in mind to give a permanent end. "It's enough not being able to do anything sitting in a hospital room while two people I love are in pain, Emma." He looks over to her with a trouble look shadowing. "It's one thing having someone getting to the ones I love, but it's another when those same people I love have none for themselves and so would rather end it. It's just… it's just too much to think about." He can already feel something stirring within him at these thoughts. Somebody stupidly having the gall to take advantage of his family and making them suffer for it causes him to push harder on the gas pedal; the earlier they arrive, the quicker he can find peace and justice arresting this suspect.

"Oh," deflates Emma. So there was that. Well, she's going to have to come clean about it soon, or else an innocent man will get the treatment for a crime he never committed. She needs to somehow lead this case to solely focus on Henry's jumpers because nothing is getting done. "Hey, what's the deal with the town line? The spell still up or no?"

David's face drains from thinking what his daughter's implying. He checked a while back and it was still up. No sooner after Regina's death did the town voted on having a protection spell up for no outside danger to enter, like Greg Mendel, or people trying to flee. Rumpel putted it up and is the only one, besides Emma, who can repeal it. Charming pulls out his walkie reaching out to Ruby.

 _"Yeah David?"_

"Can you check up on the town line and make sure the spell's still up?"

 _"Yeah, no problem."_

"And take Leroy with you. There's no saying if our suspects are over there."

 _"Already on it brother,"_ chimes in Leroy with the line then going silent.

"Dad, you don't really think…?" Swan gives her father a confused look. Her suspect is in the car with them, but Henry's?

David shakes his head, "I don't know Emma. But better safe than sorry." He then voices in for Tink.

 _"What's up?"_

"Tink, do us a favor and contact Henry before…," he looks at the time then to his daughter. "When's Henry's lunch?"

That sour churning is coddling her stomach again, "Noon."

"Did you get that Tink?"

 _"Yep. What do I say to him?"_

"Tell him we need him to go over the description of his attackers again. And this time he needs to think of _anyone_ wanting any harm to him. The more names the better."

The fairy agrees to do so and the line is clipped once more. In the distance ahead, both officers can see meadows stretched far and wide with beautiful horses grazing, a few cows roaming, and chickens dispersed. The asphalt with the mild bumps then turns to dirt rattling the truck more than Emma's comfortable with. Up ahead there's a mini parking lot where the two pull in and enter out. David throws on his shades with a determined countenance and rests his hands on his waist so his badge shines favorably in the pale sun. Swan shields her eyes from the spotlight sun as well and squints ahead also displaying her badge, pushing one had aside her jacket thinking all the possibilities this can go wrong.

"Got your badge and cuffs?" he asks.

"Yeah, you?"

"Same. What about your gun?"

"The replacement…, yeah." Her actual service weapon is missing, but she has a good inkling on its whereabouts.

David looks down and lightly kicks the dirt not believing their main evidence will never be seen. The finger prints and all are on there he bets. _Wait!_ "I think later on," he starts with the idea sharpening. "I think we need to conduct a search over by the toll bridge river."

Swan's brows furrow. "For what?" She squints at him from the other side of the truck feeling that Regina's scarf could've definitely provided some warmth today.

"What does everyone do with incriminating evidence?"

"Rid it?"

"Exactly," he looks over the field. "Maybe someone disposed the gun in the river to wash away the prints and hopefully get rid of it." He stops then waiting for Emma's approval. Approval because he never really had the proper training nor skill set for detective, unless being a good sword wielder with chivalrous manners applies on a résumé.

The Sheriff inwardly sighs. It's good thinking, no doubt, just not applicable in this delicate situation. It shames her to see that he's actually trying along with everyone else, yet it's discarded. "That's probably true. Yeah, I guess we can conduct a search." Though, she can't brush off everything.

Her determined and earnest deputy has to keep his smile at bay. It's tragic that his family was harmed and he almost lost his daughter, although he'll admit he never felt more alive than now (besides those other deaths) doing his job. "Alright," he looks down and scuffs at the ground again. "Wanna take the lead on this?"

"Nah, it's originally your case. You keep lead." She tights a smile at which he nods and begins up to the barn where sounds can be heard emitting.

After few minutes when they approach it, David is already feeling some adrenaline with an itching sensation that they're about to question their first suspect. On the other hand, Emma is subtly gagging from the smell of manure, their course of action, and having to carefully watch her every step from stepping in dung. Overall though, she's thinking more of Regina and her love for horses. At least she can feel close to her right now.

Entering the barn they see nobody but two stallions, a couple of chickens roaming and clucking, and stacks of hay. They decide to take a gander with each taking a side inspecting anything unusual. Swan is looking in a horse pen while Charming is looking at a footprint and comparing it to the one he found back in the warehouse. He takes his phone out with pics of the crime scene and looks over contrasts/comparisons between the footprints. Discarding the one of Killian's, given he brought Emma and Henry to the hospital, he analyzes another faint footprint that's more of a dress shoe.

"Hey sweetheart? What shoe was Henry wearing when—"

"Sweetheart?" interrupted another voice.

Both attentions are raised at the intruder toward the barn's entrance. It wasn't their suspect but someone else.

"Excuse me, but who're you?" says Emma.

The man answers with a nice southern accent, light but modest. "I can say the same thing. Why are you in my barn tampering with my stuff?" He wore a cowboy hat, a faded cream rancher's shirt with tan baggy overalls and rubber boots, and had a nicely chiseled, weathered face with underlying frown lines and crow's feet. It's apparent this man had his highs and lows in life, but is still fighting.

David slowly steps toward him coolly sporting his badge on his waist and says, "We're looking for a stout man with side burns and bit red in the face. Know where we can find him?"

"Not unless you have a damn warrant or your superior answers. Where is he?"

"Sir," Emma reaches for her badge. "I'm Sheriff Swan and this is Deputy Nolan, my father. We're just hoping you can answer a few questions for us regarding a suspect in a crime."

Looking wearingly at David, the rancher takes his hat off nodding his respect to Emma. "Sheriff, apologies for my hostility—it's been a toiling week. I'm Walt Norquist and this here's my barn. What can I answer for ya?"

David takes the lead, "What's the man's name that fits our description?"

Again hesitance is given at David. "Lawrence _Doe_ —he doesn't have a surname, so I gave him that."

"That's fine, where was he—" David's question is abruptly stopped from their suspect walking in.

"Ugh! I swear why did I ever take this job?! There's horse shit **_everywhere!_** " From this exclamation, the suspect himself grabs a bundle of hay and tries in excess to wipe at the horse dung splattered on his bottom. He's unaware that there are three others staring right at him with differing face gestures: David's having a steadfast of irritation build, Emma's scrunching from the disgust and smell of the dung, and Norquist's stoic as usual when dealing with Lawrence.

Constricting his voice for coolness, David then goes, "Lawrence Doe, the Sheriff and I have some questions we'd like to ask you."

Squealing from the obvious threatening voice, Lawrence gives face of a deer caught in headlights ping and ponging his eyes to David and his boss. It's all over when he spots Sheriff Swan at which he gapes at. David concludes from the fright in Lawrence's eyes that this _must_ be their suspect—Emma's potential _murderer_. The deputy's jaw begins to wind.

The balding man nervously laughs backing a bit. "Oh my—My apologies just give me a moment to clean myself up." Around the barn he disappears in haste and starts dialing a number. " _C'mon, pickup, pickup, pickup!_ "

"Aye…, what _you_ want?" answers Killian.

" _Why is your wife **here**?!_ " dismays Lawrence.

"Ah," sums the pirate. "She did say somethin' 'bout finding a suspect today. Henry's jumpers I assume."

The troubled man fumingly sighs from the daftness this pirate stupidly exhibits, "You drunkard toad! Do you not know yet who jumped your stepson?!"

"Watch your tongue fat man! Your entrails will be on me hook in due time if you keep at it. Now, tell me Henry's jumper."

" **She Works With You!** " Lawrence jabs the phone on his temple in frustration. "God I'm surrounded by blockheaded nitwits—Why is your wife here? _Why?!_ "

"Calm Laura—"

"Don't call me—"

"What bother did ye get yerself in?"

"Nothing!" pitches him.

"Okay, if it's neither for Henry's jumper nor any trouble ye caused perhaps it's for— _bloody hell!_ " The pirate's voice peaked and eyes probably widened.

Lawrence's heart is heaving palpitations by the second. He thinks he's been out here too long, the others must be getting suspicious. " _What?!_ " he sharps. "Spit it out," footsteps are closing to him now. He briskly walks away from the sound and hides behind some hay.

Killian says the next slowly trying to wrap his mind around it himself. "It must be for Emma's attack. She's looking for _her_ suspect."

The other man mutters a cuss under his breath and wipes his brow with his arm while keeping an eye out. He smells like shit, he feels like shit, everything is shit...just— " _Gah!_ Have you not confronted her on her suicide yet?!"

Hook crosses a look. " _ **Oi!**_ And whose bloody idea was it for her to do such a _thing?_ She could've DIED! Swan was never supposed to get caught in the crossfire. It was never supposed to come down to this!"

"I already told you she wouldn't have! He said it wasn't her time."

"And I'm just supposed to bloody right believe that?" seethes the pirate. "Just cos Ahijah has Henry under control _doesn't mean shit_ _for my Swan_."

 _You still don't know it's Jafar?! You really are stupid._

Lawrence crouches away from his current spot and finds another with more distance. He can just feel the agitation the others must be feeling from his absence. "He talked to **Death** for god's sake! **Death** said it wasn't her time! What is not going through your flimsy cranium pirate?" There's a shadow in the distance, oh god.

Hook gives an audible scoff. "That's where I find it dodgy you lumpish bag of suds! I'm s'pose to take word that ye spoken to _Death?_ I've met him, his name is Hades. Lest ye're tellin' me the lord of the Underworld is currently in StoryBrooke? If so, I do not feel comfortable for the protection of my family nor _Vermont_!"

 _"Henry's protection has nothing to do with Death you—Oooooh!"_ the stout man grinds his teeth and clenches his fists channeling his ire from this— _conceited...teapot...degenerate_ — " **Asswipe!** "

" _What did you just—_ " Hook tries to castigate but is cut from another voice on Lawrence's end.

"Found him!" yelled Emma not far. She can see the portly man trying to obscure himself by some hay and obviously failing. Not that it was the only factor she went by finding him, she can also smell the dung on him a mile away.

Lawrence's complexion blanches as he sees the bipolar blonde meters over. "Oh dear they found me! _I am not going to jail for your wife's fuckup!_" Suddenly making a run for it on his stubby legs, he frantically searches for a getaway.

" _What?!_ Swan's there?"

"Daft! Whole point I called!" heaved Lawrence already feeling the workout.

David quickly appears next to Emma's side and asks what she said. She points over at the scurrying man trying to flee seemingly heading for a horse. "I guess he's going to trot away."

"And you're just going to let him?" disbeliefs Charming. His little girl almost got shot and died, and she's just going to let their prime suspect slip?

"Dad," calms Emma, "with no offense toward him, but he's not even going to make it. See," she juts out her hand, "I think he's taking a breather. Plus we don't even know if he's the one." She can't stop the investigation, but she sure as hell won't bully the man. Just why do they always have to run?

David looks squarely at his daughter. "Emma, I love you and all, but bullshit. That is our suspect and you're letting him get away!" He points said way.

Hearing her father scold her for her 'screw up' Emma begins feeling guilt of not trying to retrieve Lawrence. Before she could make the offer to do it, David makes a pursuit of his own to the suspect—which, admittedly, gained a considerable amount of distance—and doesn't look back.

"You need tell Emma… _to call off the investigation!_ " gasps Lawrence as he still runs for it. "She'll ruin everything! _Oh my_ —" he glances behind seeing the incoming dot of a bee actually turning into the deputy.

" _Stop there Lawrence!_ " yells David.

"Who's that?" Hook asks.

" **Your father-in-law!** "

"Look," starts the pirate, "I just can't confront Swan that she tried to kill herself. It'd be wrong, and I still have to give into consideration for Henry."

" _For What!?_ " cries the pudgy man.

"His safety! Vermont is coming up and I'd think it's best he needn't worry anything given we're going to _kidnap_ him." He can't believe he said that aloud, indeed this is happening.

Lawrence chances a peek behind him and almost dazes on how close the deputy is. He was so close grabbing a horse, until it fled. However, himself is making great stride given his physicality. "And you're just going to let an innocent person be locked away for a crime they didn't commit?!"

" _Stop or I will shoot!_ " hollers David.

" _He can't do that, can he?!_ "

Hook venoms, "Stop fleeing like a coward Lawrence, you know it's futile."

Swan, watching from across the field, also heard her father's declaration and too thinks that's a naysay act her deputy cannot do without proper cause. Lawrence just needs to give up, thinks her, he'll more than likely be released from custody if he has a proper alibi that one night and isn't tied to Henry's jump. Mr. Norquist, with his hat on again, stands beside Emma with a rifle in his hand from which she alarms.

"Don't worry; it's just a tranquilizer rifle. I could put him out if you want?"

She gives him a perplex look as if he's serious. "That's illegal you know."

"Well," he puts a hand in his overall pocket squinting toward the two running. "Anything goes on private property, 'specially if there's a convict on my land." Crooking a smile he looks at her.

She shams one of her own to him feeling something blatantly off with this guy. "Guess we don't have to," she nods toward the field, "it seems he's caught."

" _Lawrence_ I'm hanging up."

"What? _No, no, no!_ You  stay on the line!"

"Mate, you're 'bout to be caught, and David's not the one to mess with. Plus, I can't be jeopardizing both our covers. Gotta keep one arse fine if not the other."

"Don't you dare—"

" _We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you—_ "

" _ **Ugh!**_ " quetches Lawrence. He again looks behind him and bulges his eyes from David already pulling out his gun and ready to flash. Without second thought, Lawrence hurls the phone toward David with succession of hitting him in the face. The deputy goes down with a quick cry from the blunt force while the suspect himself gives a disbelief smile that he was able to stop the man. Only a moment is that victory relished before a twisted scowl from David emerges with hardened blue eyes targeting on the murderer before them. He lunges for Lawrence tackling him straight down supplying multiple bruises on the sensitive pudgy man. Instead of pulling the cuffs out though, the deputy lets his anger get the better of him and uses the handle of his gun to hit the collarbone of the suspect who lets out horrific cries from the sharp pain. Not harboring the thought of relinquishing, David goes at it more abusing the murderer below him hitting him repetitively with the gun to the other's sides, chest, and such with one hand while the other grips at Lawrence's thick neck, trying to choke him.

" _You tried to murder my daughter! You almost ruined my family!_" He blunts a hit to the face.

" _I..._ _**awk!** didnosuch_ — ** _awk! awk!_**... _THING_ — _ **awk!**_ " The poor man was turning blue.

"DAVID! STOP!" Emma was running toward the scuffling pair but was still a distance away feeling a heap of emotions getting to her from this innocent man getting abused and her father practically going berserk.

"Where's the gun! _Where is it?!_ " He squeezes harder at the throat.

"DAD!"

"Tell me where is—" Suddenly the avenging deputy ceased the beating of Lawrence and looked with astonishment at his ankle where a neon pink dart was protruding. He looked to the vast field and remembered nothing but being stripped off the suspect by his daughter.

Lawrence, taking a burning breath, rolls onto his side with hisses of apparent pain and wobbles onto his legs also looking at the vast field. Everything is so vibrant while his vision is disoriented that it's just so beautiful. If this could be heaven then it'd be no more perfect.

However, blissful thoughts of these are suddenly clipped when the stout man see's nothing but down the barrel of a rifle feet away from his face. "Now listen here Lawrence," announces Norquist, "I don't know what the hell you got yourself into, but I want you off my property and in the Sheriff's custody, _voluntarily_ , or else you'll be on my hunting list this season." He directed the rifle closer taking cautious steps.

" _That's enough!_ " grits Swan through her teeth while handling her father making sure he's fine.

"Just doin' my duty as a citizen Sheriff Swan. There's a convicted criminal on my property tyrin' to flee that attacked a deputy and caused him to lose consciousness—"

"Of which _you_ did! An atrocious act you committed on an officer that's reprehensible of the state—"

"Of which I recall we're not a part of." Norquist still had the rifle aimed at Lawrence holding his ground and speaking to the sherriff. "StoryBrooke is not a real town with government funding other than itself. So what I am doing is nothing more than a citizen's arrest and diffusing a situation that could've been more heinous than what you're talking about. Your deputy was out of line Sheriff, if this is how you hold your office then there ought to be an investigation toward it than me. Now," he slightly squeezed on the trigger, "are you going to arrest this man or should I?"

Giving one final look at her father, Emma regretfully stood and took out her cuffs directing a dire look at both men. First Lawrence for being uncompliant on this whole situation, then Walt for pulling out the technicalities and tranquilizing her father. "Do you even know the common law for citizen's arrest?"

"Well," he lowered his rifle and stood back as the man in question was being cuffed, "I know felony, misdemeanor, and branch of peace are applicable. From this misconduct of your deputy and the jackass move this twig did," he nodded at Lawrence, "I think I handled the situation pretty damn fine. More than I can say for you."

A deep scowl etched on Emma's face from the insult. "Ok, wow. First, it's _breach_ of peace. Second, I'm plenty aware of my dad—erm, I mean _deputy_ being way out of line, and third: pick him up and follow me." She shoved Lawrence forward with Walt following behind carrying David on his shoulder, all heading down the field.

"Y'know it wasn't the beating your deputy did that was wrong Sheriff, it was pullin' out his gun 'gainst a defenseless man."

Emma jerked her head to the sound of his voice with a baffled face. "What? No, David didn't pull out his gun. I didn't see that."

"Maybe because you were too _busy_ worrying about him rather than me!" spat Lawrence, at which a shove was directed at him to shut-up.

Walt shook his head. "Nope. I saw a gun, that's when I decided to shoot. He just happened to move swiftly before I got a clear shot. You're deputy's corrupt Sheriff, you should look into that."

"Yeah, well thanks but no thanks. If you understood the circumstances this case is under, you'd get why he went off line real quick." From yon she can spot the truck.

"Just cos I live on the outskirts doesn't mean I don't get wind what's happening in town. Specifically your almost murder." He readjusts David on his shoulder before adding, "I can help you know."

"Why do I get the feeling that you wanted to go into law enforcement?" hums Swan while they approach closer to the truck. She needs an ibuprofen, a drink, and a hanky-high from this day already. Not even an hour in and she's got a falsely accused arrest— _well it wouldn't be if he didn't flee and attack David_ —and an unconscious deputy/father. All the things she seen and it's only ten in the morning!

 _Bruh..._

Approaching the incoming truck, Swan scrunches her nose from an unwelcoming smell that was coming from her arrestee. She looks down at his bottom and sees the smeared brown of what could only be crap he was earlier trying to scrub off. She's not putting that on the seats. "Hey, do you have a tarp?"

 **~Cfys~**

On the road again with a new addition, Emma looks to the rearview mirror at their suspect then over to David who's still unconscious. Right, so how can she go at this now? There needs to be a way to release Lawrence from police custody with minimal of charges pressed against him except assault against an officer. From this her father gets some form of justice and their suspect—or rather his cos it sure isn't hers—can still walk a freeman. A possibly _unemployed_ freeman, but free nonetheless. Now as long as Lawrence has absolutely nothing to do with Henry getting jumped, or in some inexplicable way her almost death, then he walks scot free.

Yet, despite these hopeful thoughts that could hopefully transpire, why is that food poison feeling swarming in her stomach again? Emma can't pinpoint if this has something to do with the case, Henry, herself, or something out of her hands she has no clue about. Gosh, this feeling is making her queasy! What if this regards of her son and the case? Could Lawrence actually be a suspect in her son's jump? " _Pft, nah._ " Why would a grown man be involved in a teenager's jump? If so, why? What's so valuable in Henry that an egregious act like that would have to be made? Why'd _her_ son be targeted? Wait, what if other StoryBrooke kids are being targeted too? What if her son's being targeted because of her? Because of what she done? Is it a vendetta or because of the cowardice she portrayed when she didn't properly finish herself? _Damnit Emma! You're a better shot! You could be dead and Henry could be safe—Wait, wait._ Henry was jumped _before_ she decided to pop the cap off. So it's not because of that. But why was her son suspected to a jump?! Her precious little boy went through pain no one should have to endure and— _oh gosh!_ That damn hotdog memory is smacking to her thoughts now at this damn moment—the sour swishing of her stomach giving more life to it. Why did she ever put high faith into that all those years back?! This is not good, this is not good. She has to—

 _ **Scurk!**_

She has to get out and apologize to this person she tapped with the truck to immediately.

"Huh?! What was that?" Lawrence panicked in the back of the truck. He wasn't _in_ it per se, but was in the trunk nicely tucked in a corner for safety precautions and sitting on a tarp. He peeks seeing the Sheriff hop out the truck with haste heading over to the car she tapped.

"I am so, _so_ sorry for this. My uh head was just somewhere else and… I'm just, um, I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry."

"You damn right better be! You better pray you didn't mess up his belongings!" The irate woman quickly pops her trunk going over a few knickknacks stored in it; stuff too big or too much to fit in the backseat.

Emma blinks from the unanticipated aggressiveness from the woman and the mentions of someone she doesn't know. Although, she could've sworn she saw this woman somewhere. "Uh, is uh, everything alright ma'am? I can um help with repairs if-if, uh if uh you… you um—you need um, uh y-you… you…," she then snaps repeatedly trying to form the words on her tongue. All of which the other woman is ignoring and checking on these belongings that are suddenly relics to her. "You… _ughhh!_ " Emma then pinches the bridge of her nose not believing she is literally short circuiting right now. "Right, let's start over. Help… yes! You need help?"

Hearing these words, the other woman slowly turns her head keeping her body attentive toward the trunk but ears zoning on what this blonde just said. Her brows knitted close together, arms holding up the trunk, and a stern countenance expressing off. She lowly hums, " _Excuse me?_ "

Doing her best to whip up a settling smile to ease the other woman's tension, Emma brushes her jacket aside to show her badge. "It's alright. I have resources to help you if you want. I can call a deputy over for some assistance."

"So now you're trying to use your badge and abuse your power towards me so you can _take_ me in and _get_ me **_help_**?"

"Uhm… uh," quivered Emma's voice from the unexpected tone. "I'm not trying to abuse anything or force your hand or something. I just—help, I have resources. Wait, that sounded wrong. Look, I'm Sheriff Swan and—"

The other woman practically glided up to Emma invading her space so effortlessly that subtle goosebumps trailed up and down Swan's arms. "You don't know me or my family and you hell of won't! I'm tired of the sympathy and pity you and this damn town are trying to dump on me as if you, too, were struck with _grievance_. You didn't know my son, _no one_ did. So that doesn't give you the damn right to dig your nose in my business then try to get me **_help_ ** just because I'm a bit unhinged. I'm entitled to it; _I LOST MY **SON**!_ " She yelled at the sky with a sorrowful look overcoming her tired features. Her voice then constricts trying to keep the flustering emotions sealed. " _Why can't you just leave me alone?_"

Emma is taken aback from the daggering diatribe and is flooded with sympathy for this woman. It feels that she should be apologizing more than tapping her with the truck, like giving heart-felt condolences and an assuring speech about healing over time with a still bright future ahead—something Snow easily does.

But instead, Emma reels the emotions wanting to fall for this woman and takes a step back indicating she'll back off. In a professional tone—with still a lead ball trapped in her throat—she says, "I'm sorry; it was never my intention to offend you Miss. Please carry on with your day and I'll try not to disturb you anymore than absolutely required." Gosh, she wants to say more.

The other woman just maintains severe eye contact for how long then retires back to her car, closing the trunk and giving one final look to the sheriff. Emma is the only person who hasn't come knocking on her door, thinks Sarah, and repenting on their personal sorrows on Tobias' death. Oddly enough, she couldn't feel more grateful for it; one less person to be blatantly sympathized by. She drives off with the sheriff and the truck becoming only a dot in her mirrors.

Only shuffling on her feet back to the truck, Emma is now certain this day's only going to bleak and aching. Only—

" _Is that it?!_ You're not going to say sorry on her son's death? Nor mines you almost casted on me?"

" _Shutup!_ " hisses Emma to Lawrence. Just for that, she's going to make a sharp turn to annoy his whimpering ass.

On the road again—grudgingly—with shit smells, shit thoughts, and a whole lotta crap she just knows is heading her way, Swan persistently thinks on how to release Lawrence from their custody; however, not without swarming thoughts like that troubled woman, the shifty Mr. Norquist, her father's recovery ( _is he going to wake up?_ ), Henry's attacker, the supposed search they're to do at the river, and much more. She blows a weary sigh, when has her life become so complicated? Besides the tidbit she added herself, but overall? If she ever has the opportunity to just disappear a while somewhere, she doesn't need to think twice to take that deal. Maybe go someplace with Henry, like Vermont, it's nice and quiet up there. Or maybe Atlantic City, teach him how to gamble properly. _Ooh..., or Disney World. That'd be a load of sh!ts and giggles._ Or a cruise, get away from here altogether and see the yawning oceans from every view. Whichever place it is, she's game. In fact—

David mumbles something throwing Emma off her train of thought. "Dad?" Slowing the car a bit she lightly shakes her father. "Dad?"

Only a whispering sound is making out, something like " _ffff_ … _fff_ …"

"What David? F what?"

" _Ffffo…ffffo…_ "

"Hm?"

Feebly he says, "fffoone"

"Phone? Did you drop your phone at the ranch?" She looks over to him not getting a response, but can make out him easily breathing. So he's regaining consciousness, that's a relief. She can't reach at his pockets for his phone, but she'll get about it later. Right now she needs to—

 ** _Scuuuurk!_**

Emma's eyes bulge and body freezes from the grey wolf crossing the rest of the road then disappearing. "Fuck! **_Again?!_** "

"Again?! What, did you recklessly crash into someone else again? Ohhh, why can't you—"

" _SHUTUP!_ " She bangs her hands on the steering wheel pinpointing her stare in the rearview mirror. "Not another word or _so help me Lord_ _I will find some definite way to throw your helpless ass in jail!_"

"* _ **gasp!** *…_"

"Yeah, I thought so." Revving up the engine again, she solely focuses on nothing for the rest of the drive. Earlier her stomach was churning sourly from everything there's to deal with, but now with _another_ wolf straying over and almost causing a breakdown of the car, she will not think of anything other.

First time she was leaving StoryBrooke: wolf. Subsequent to follow were fairytales, birth parents, magic, Neverland, etc. Next she was with Regina finding Lily: wolf. Subsequent to follow were the Dark One(s), Camelot, Underworld, Regina's death, post-death. Presently taking a suspect for her 'murder' and Henry's jump: wolf. Subsequent to follow are things unknown—things happening now. What's going to happen? Henry despises her, she's trapped in a unhealthy marriage, she committed suicide and failed, and Regina's gone.

"I mean…," she sighs and looks to her father ensuring he's not awake and Lawrence can't hear. "I couldn't even kill myself properly. I already failed at mothering, being a wife, being a friend. Then I can't do suicide right. I'm just… _nothing_. If anything Henry's right: I'm a fuckup. I can't do anything right, not even this investigation. _What's_ … _wrong with me?" _

* * *

"Any interests after your graduation?"

"I dunno, I always wanted to be in a gang. Doing bad and all that."

"Like what?"

"Ehunno." Henry slurs with his arms crossed. "Drugs? Narcotics and weed?"

"That's not funny Henry," Mr. B reprimands. "College is important you know."

"No you're right, it is." Henry agrees. "As well as staying out of the narco biz. Can't be responsible for clients' deaths."

"Now that's just offensive. Plenty of people are victim to that."

"Like Tobias?"

The counselor sighs. "He died from a heart attack, Henry. There's no say if he was actually using."

"No, but there's known info that he was doing _something_. Rumors all over the school, and frankly it's pissing me off."

"Language!" scolds Jafar. "Even if you're here for refuge, I won't take that sort of talk." He rises his chin to indicate his words.

"But Jay—"

"Knows when to keep her tongue held. I expect same from you for me and your mother."

Grumbling, Henry then responds with, "Which one?"

Instead of scolding that smart remark as well, the vizier just weighs a look unto the boy subtly warning him. Lucien will straighten that attitude later on. "You know I mean Emma."

"Well," starts the brunette, "I was thinking more about my other mom."

"And how's that going?" he swivels in his chair with arms dangling on the rests.

"I hate it," grunts the brunette leaning his head on a balled fist in his fixed chair.

"Mm. It's always hard to carry on when our loved ones are somewhere better—assuming they're not burning."

"Well my grandmother, _err_ …I guess great- _great_ grandmother isn't." _Damn family tree._ "She was the Queen of Hearts and caused nothing but misery. Yet, I'm sure she's enjoying herself with Dad and grandpa somewhere."

"Yes…, to die would awfully be a big adventure."

"Shakespeare?"

"Anything but my boy. Anything but."

Without giving second thought, Henry then says, "Y'know I almost considered death once?" He's aware this is an immense declaration he's about to tell, but he feels comfortable around Mr. Barmaki and really wouldn't want anyone else to know. Not even his friend knows, and that was arduous enough to keep it hidden from her given they hang with each other a lot.

Ahijah raises his brows from the given statement. He would be more concern from this confession, but it's obvious the teen here doesn't want coddling than absolutely necessary.

Henry pushes back both his sleeves to indifferently exhibit his cuts to the counselor. Four horizontals. "I did one the proper way… then I chickened out I guess." He casts his eyes away to not see the disapproving glare his counselor's probably spitting off. Five niches on his taper, symbolic for 5 times he considered death, one time closely committing to it. All times being pure considerations to see his actual mother, Regina.

"I don't think it was chickening out, Henry. I think there is literally something tethering you to stay here, what is it?" It's a good thing the boy casted his head down in shame, taking your own life is cowardice lest you're in pure misery where there's no way out. Even then there are options, thinks Jafar.

Staring straight in the counselor's eyes, Henry then divulges. "Jay and Emma; Jay's the only person that cares enough about me without giving whispers or stares—she treats me like I'm normal and nothing else."

The irony she jumped him is nothing but unsettling, Jafar feels. Although, it needed to be done for the cleansing and purification Henry went through when blood poured out from him. Otherwise, no jump would've been needed. However, Emma's 'death'… "And your mother?"

The brunette teen lightly scoffs throwing his head aside—now there's where it gets complex. "She needs me," he half-heartedly shrugs. "It'd be betrayal to do something that selfish when she needs me more than I probably her."

"And you know this how?"

"Well Mr. B, she doesn't really speak with her parents often unless she kinda has to. Like work with Gramps. And I think Snow gets on her nerves, even her brother…he has everything that she didn't."

"What about her husband?" Surely Killian's keeping himself occupied by his given task.

Again Henry scoffs. "He definitely holds no value to her. I'm still waiting for the 'divorce', and if it happens all she'll have is me. Also, I think Ma would be lost without me. She's a bit unhinged now from Mom's death, but I honestly think with me gone she would just…"

"Just?"

Henry lets a concern face take over for a moment thinking over Emma's stability if he was gone. "Just…vaporize? No parent should have to lose their child, it's just wrong."

" _Ah_ ," Ahijah swivels languidly in his chair once more. "So that's the overall reason. It'd be wrong."

"More or less," sighed Henry.

"Hmm, well I for one am ecstatic you're still here Mr. Mills. I think you fail to see how special you are."

"Yeah?" Jay told him same, yet it's always different depending on the perspectives. For all he knows, she was probably saying that because she felt entitled to it. Not that he's going to complain, but still.

"Indeed. In fact, for us to do these meetings often I'll need your signature. Your mother already gave permission, I just need yours."

"Yeah, no problem. Anything to skip class, right?"

Ahijah hands over his relic of a pen over to Henry whose mildly enthusiastic to have reason to use this wicked looking utensil. Its shades of darkness would always come to life in different angles of lighting and seemed like a kaleidoscope of blacks and other fearsome colors that would sway the bravest of them all. Henry's ringed hand occasionally tweaked and itched whenever the pen was apparent to him that it just was a desire to hold it. And the details embedded in the body with two gold line strands lazily slithering around to the finial with, literally, a mini serpent head with its jaw widened waiting to inject its fangs when pressed was just too intricate to miss and not gawk over.

Despite so, when the pen's handed over to him, the tip pokes at his finger drawing blood. " _Agh!_ "

"Yes, sorry about that. It's practically more of a needle than a pen at times." Thus, that note with _Blood_ written on was now fulfilled; moreover, time to crumble and discard of it, make more room for other important things. Like how is his niece doing in her classes? _Make note of that._

"It's cool," candors Henry sucking his prodded finger. He gets to use the pen and feel sated from his demanding ring. "So since we're talking about death, guess who I learned about today? Y'know his actual name's Thanatos? Ain't that cool?"

* * *

"So Henry told me we should look at this brand of _gum_ and its _posse_ for potential suspects."

"Huh?"

Tink shrugs not understanding herself. "He said something 'bout Winter and how it's a strong flavor for shit breath? Personally I think Altoids will do just."

"Like for your coffee breath?" said Ruby rounding a desk with a stack of papers.

"Yeah well," follows Tink, "should've never introduced me to caffeine."

"Right," Ruby pushes a door open with her backside while facing Tink. "I should've known better than to introduce something so hyperactive to a _pixie_."

"Yep!"

"So where's Emma and David? They get our suspect?"

"Don't know," the fairy tries to keep stride beside Ruby. "They didn't radio me in since. Anything from Leroy?"

"Except Dopey's shrining memorial at the town line? Nope."

"Why's that still up when he's alive?"

"Dunno." They turn a corner. "Dwarves are sentimental I guess."

"Yeah…, anything 'bout Doc and the drug?"

"If by ya mean the _prescribed_ drug, then no. Dead end there too."

"And Whale hasn't informed on anything more?"

"Nope. Frankly I'm still pissed how he almost let Emma die laughing his giddy ass off."

"Aren't we all?" Tink sighs as they head out the station. "Ugh! I'm so tired of these dead ends! Why is it so hard?"

"That's what she said—"

"Ah, shut-up." She glowers at Ruby for a sec. "And why are we out here? It's freezing!"

"It's 50."

" _Brrrrrr,_ " exaggerates the fairy.

"I can hear the truck a few blocks away. It should be pulling up any sec. Also, we're not hitting dead ends _everywhere_. There's now progress with Emma and Henry's case. If we can prove this guy's guilty and hopefully find Henry's suspect from what he gave you, we can close both cases."

"Of course you can stand out here; you probably haven't shaven your legs in a week! And 'bout Tobias'? Why aren't we ruling that out as self-medicated? There's no proof someone sold him the pills."

Ruby sighs dropping her head over the stack of papers. "Because Rick 'claims' his boy never used. And we have to respect that by keeping the case open 'til we looked through all possible channels. And don't hate, I've seen your legs last winter, garden shears would quiver from those golden weeds."

"Psh!"

Not long after, a frazzled Emma and a sleeping Charming pulls up. The former gets out giving a loud slam to the door and heading over to her deputies. "So?"

"'Sup?" nods Tink trying to warm herself up.

"Nothing much. Suspect's in the trunk and David's knocked from a tranq dart."

"What?!" Ruby widens.

"David's fine."

"And the suspect?"

"I dunno," squinted Emma looking behind her. "Frostbite for all I care."

"Emma!"

" _Joking_ ," helps Tink. "Swan's humor always been bit dry awhile now. I'll go retrieve him." Though, Tink does give a questioning look toward Swan.

"Anything with Henry's suspects?"

"Tink said something about Winter gum and his posse?"

"Ah," sums Emma. "The dick that Henry choked. He had an alibi when David questioned him last. Guess we'll see if the story changed. And the town line?"

"Still intact. Leroy asked Rumpel if anything happened lately and all he got was a 'no' with fidgety behavior. He said Rumpel kept stressing at this black parchment, even made him read it aloud."

"Uh, Emma? I think this guy here defecated himself."

" _I'm not dead you_ —"

" _Shutup!_ " Emma hollers toward his direction. "And those papers?"

"Things you need to oversee," Ruby hands them over.

"Great," sighed Emma. "Let's get this interrogation over with. I honestly don't think he's the guy."

 **~Cfys~**

"Please state your name."

" _Lawrence_."

"…"

"What?"

"State your last as well."

"Oh, pardon me. Lawrence _Doe_."

Even though that's not his actual surname, Emma's not going to fight this. She just wants him gone with at least a slap on the wrist. "Where ya from Lawrence? Anywhere particular of the Enchanted Forest?"

The balding man baffles at this. "What—no! I'm from England."

"Yep," she scribbles it down. "Any children? Wife?"

"No, preferred bachelor." He rubs at his wrists looking oddly at the sheriff.

"Right you are." She scribbles that as well. "So where were you 2 and 1/2 months ago?" She gives the date to which he replies with 'working'.

"Okay…, so you weren't at the docks that night?"

He shakes his head.

Okay, not a proper alibi, but she'll overlook that. "We're almost done here. Just a few more questions then you're free to go. Why did you attack Deputy Nolan?"

"He pointed a gun at me, Mr. Norquist even agreed. So you can't dismiss it."

"I wasn't. But you'll be charged with misdemeanor than the whole kaboosh when attacking an officer." She starts writing down the intricacies.

"So…that's it? I'm relieved?" This is unsettling he thinks. The Sheriff isn't blaming him or anything regarding her death—it almost seems too perfect.

"Yep, I believe you." She scribbles some more stuff down, inwardly biting her lip for what she coolly says next. "One more thing before you go: You haven't anything to do with Henry Mills' unfortunate jump?"

"…"

Thus ceases the scribbling. Emma keeps her head bowed a bit longer for Lawrence to construct his easy response.

"Um"

She slowly lifts her head directing her stare at the flustering man. _Is that sweat?_ "Mr. Doe…, have you or have you not to do anything with Henry Mills' jump?" _Say no._

Lawrence makes a reach to wipe his brow, but stops thinking this could be imprudent on his behalf. "N-no? Ahem, _no_."

 _With conviction dumbass!_ "Lawrence, think wisely now. You said you weren't at the docks when me and my son were victims of this tragedy. If you claimed you weren't there when I was—which I believed you for—why are you hesitating when it's concerning my son?"

"I uh—can we have a recess?" he chuckles.

"No, this isn't court. Now please answer the question: were you or weren't you—"

An awakened David emerges suddenly clipping the questioning. "Emma, can I talk to you for a sec?" His eyes rove over the suspect with pure disdain.

Emma nods her compliance and gives a glance Lawrence's direction not believing what she desperately didn't want to. Before she walks out she mutters something about prison and pudgy guys and soft cushioning for Doe to hear, which he does.

"What's up Dad? How're you feeling?" They both stand in front of the concealing window just watching Lawrence nervously fidget.

"A little sluggish, but overall damn fine. After what I found, I think I might be on ecstasy."

"Hm?"

"That whole time I was chasing our suspect, he was on the phone with someone. When he threw his phone at me I was able to pick it up before arresting him,"

Swan crosses her arms connecting the earlier mutters from her father to now, it makes sense. "Okay, but you didn't arrest him, _I_ did. If I'm not mistaken I have the victim himself and a witness claiming you directed your gun at him then, from what I saw, attacked him than cuffing."

"Emma, I wasn't going to shoot. It was just for him to _think_ that so he'd stop."

"Yeah, but you _attacked_ him David, that's not right. You should've just got him down then cuffed him, you know he can press charges?"

David scoffs, "What? He attacked me first," he pointed to his nose Band-Aid, "I just defended myself, and yeah got a bit carried away."

"A bit?" scoffs Swan. "There are _bruises_ to show for it. And what'd you mean 'defend'? He wasn't a threat 'cept for the phone, heck, he wasn't at all. You should've never pointed your weapon, that's what probably provoked him to act in self-defense, _hence_ ," she waved at his nose.

David didn't say anything but looked and glared at the suspect who's breaking down tidbits by the second. "Ok, that was my fault. I just got really mad thinking this is our guy. It's just hard to think you probably wouldn't be standing here if that guy really did do it."

"What did you find on the phone?" She can't think about her suicide right now, but needs her focus on Henry's case.

"Uh, he was talking to a 207 number which could only be here in StoryBrooke since he's y'know, _here_. I tried calling it and got nothing, probably destroyed. But I saw that the contact's name was Sea Cretin. Going through the rest of his phone I found he had other contacts: Walt Norquist and two unidentified numbers."

"Both same area code?"

"Yeah." He crossed his arms, "What now?"

"Now," she drawls trying to connect this info. For someone presumably living here all these years, Lawrence sure does has little contact. "Now we interrogate him about Henry's jump. He has nothing to do with my death, but he keeps hesitating about Henry's case. I'll take the lead, you reinforce."

That said both officers walk into the room with the sweaty man and take spots. Emma sits across from him with a cool visage, and David leans behind him throwing contempt looks. Lawrence, on the other hand, is inwardly squealing from the presence of Deputy Nolan and the apparent bruising on his nose. He's a pretty boy, he notes, that sure as hell don't dwell well with those types.

Emma lazily twiddles her pen looking sincerely at Lawrence. "So Lawrence you say there's no significant other or children in your life. Any siblings or relatives here?"

"Uh—I-I…, why is the deputy here?" He peeks behind him.

"Don't worry about him Lawrence, you're in my protection." She soothes. "But could you answer my question please? I assure you Deputy Nolan is on a tight leash."

"But—"

"Lawrence, look at me," she rests her pen and conveys honesty, "I promise you my deputy won't do anything. You are under my sole protection, ok? He's not going to do anything than be witness."

"For what?"

"Anything I miss. My other deputies are busy," she lies.

Nodding, the suspect builds the essential courage to speak again. "I…have nobody, it's just me."

Emma frowns. "Likewise, but unexpectedly I had more family than I could ever think of having. Don't worry, you'll find someone. A quiet man like you, I know you will."

From this statement, Lawrence immediately felt settled again. "Thank you, Sheriff Swan…you're lucky to have someone yourself. I'm sure Captain Jones loves you most dearly."

"Yeah," Emma twists her ring, "I sure am lucky. A loving husband, loving parents, and a son I'd do anything for…." She then shams introspection, "I'm just not sure he'd do anything for me."

"Pft! Nonsense, A son would do anything for his mother."

"Well," she sighs, "I don't know if I would if my parent couldn't solve who my jumpers were. I'd probably spite them— _hate_ them even…like Henry does to me." Her face then frowns. "I'd maybe start up fights with them all the time and scream things that'd only break their hearts." She furrows her brows, "Like Henry does to me."

David peels his eyes off Lawrence and peeks at Emma seeking any truth from her luring testimony. There's a hint of something, he sees.

"Well," speaks the suspect with some guilt building, "did you get anywhere near who's his attacker? _I assure you I am not._ " He hastes.

"See, I believe you. There is too much caring and affable traits about you Lawrence—you seem _honest_. But it just really disappoints me that you won't tell me information regarding my baby boy's jump." She closely leans toward him with saddening eyes and speaks to him lowly for her deputy to not catch. "I know it's hard to think I'm human with this… _badge_ on me—" she unhooks her badge and drops it with disgust, "but I'm also a mother wanting to know why was my precious little boy jumped…he _screamed_ for me Lawrence." She dropped her head balling her hands in front of him to display the inner turmoil she's battling. "He screamed _so much_ from the pain of me not being there that his voice became hoarse only causing him to pass don't know what it's like to find your child in disgusting pain that it just makes you crumble within," she gestured to her chest not looking up still. "And I couldn't help him…."

"No…,"he sympathized, hooked into this.

"No. Instead I was attacked to prevent getting him help. If not for my husband, I'm afraid not only would I be dead…," a sniffle made notice, "but him too. And I wouldn't be able to live with myself Lawrence to not know who were the ones responsible for my Henry almost dying." She wiped at her eye and grabbed for the other's hand, "So _please_ , don't see me as a dumb officer, but a concerned mother for the life of her child. I lost both his father and his other mom, I can't fathom losing him too…. _It would destroy me._ "

David rounds the table settling a comforting hand on his daughter's shoulder and giving an equaling helpless look to Lawrence as well. "Please Lawrence. My daughter's gone through enough, ease her tension by just giving us any information you have about my grandson's case. It's tearing our whole family apart and I just can't lose not only him, but my daughter." Eyes look down on a sniffling Emma who keeps wiping at continuous tears. " _Please._ "

Struck by the heavy sorrow in the small, stale room, Lawrence gulped the spawning emotion taking refuge in him. It's not fair she should have to feel like this, nor David. Why would himself want to tear a household apart and cause uninviting pain and depression to nothing but strangers? Where's his decency?

Lawrence closes his eyes turning his head away momentarily not believing the answer he's about to confess. Self-deprecation is all he'll generate from this day on and he's coming to peace with that. "Emma… David," he casts his eyes to him. "I am the _dearest_ sorry for this pain you both have to endure from this atrocious act." He cups Emma's hands with both of his casting his head aside, "But I'm truly sorry to tell you I have no information regarding your son's misfortune."

"…"

Taking a deep breath and slowly withdrawing her hands, Emma still keeps her head bowed while feeling the flood of choler fill her voice steadying with bass. "Why are you lying?"

"What? I'm not—"

"You are." The Sheriff clips. She raises her face with a hardened stare toward the liar. "You just blatantly lied to my face seeing damn well the pain I'm going through. Though regardless of the act, I want the fuckin' bullshit cut from your mouth and only the truth now." Abruptly standing and towering behind him she whispers in his ear, " _Tell me the truth Lawrence_, _or I'll make sure you're never seen or heard from again._ _What are you hiding about my son's jump?_ "

"Nothing!"

"BullShit!" She pulls the chair from under him causing him to smack straight down. David takes a seat with a cool face muttering if the other man's alright.

"No I'm not! She just pulled the chair from me; that's abuse!"

"It's not abuse if you're lying to her about her son's case. Obviously you know something, just say it."

"I know nothing!" He looks helplessly at both officers.

"No! **_I_** know nothing!" Emma invades his space scrutinizing at the stout man. " _My son was beaten to a effin' pulp with blood cascaded all over his face with a broken rib and scraped hands with glass in it!_ And you have the damn right to claim there's nothing occurring to you in that head of yours?!"

"I'm telling you the truth! I don't know—"

" ** _SHUTUP!_** " She rakes her hair wildly not succeeding in catching her breath. "My son almost _DIED._ His life was practically gone when I found him! Do you not know how tormenting that was to see?"

"I-I wouldn't—"

"Sit down!" He devoutly listens and takes seat. Only to follow was Emma pulling the chair from under him again then flinging it aside giving a loud racket. She puts her boot on the feeble man's chest casually leaning on that leg; moreover, the more pressure added, the harder it was for him to breathe. " _You ran from police custody then attacked a defenseless deputy that putted up a good fight ,but was overridden and so got a few bruises to show for it. You then shouted for your boss to come and help and shoot David, who was trying to cuff you but you resisted and flailed your arms to signal Walt to shoot. Walt shot, and then you tried to run again until I caught you. All this from the questioning of a minor's jump you acted on._ If this doesn't get your ass thrown in jail with a rigged trial than I honestly don't know what will. _"_

Lawrence eyes bulged from the thinning air making to his lungs and signaled Emma to stop.

"Then," she pushed harder, "I don't know… I don't consider myself that type of Sheriff, but if somehow someone were to be bribed to _shank_ a certain _Mr. Doe_ , I could only give so much notice since I'm still probably searching for my son's jumpers. At least one suspect's handled, right?" She says dryly looking down with a stoic face at the squirming man.

"Emma…," says David from hearing this other part of his daughter. If it's lingering darkness or pure grief from a mother, he won't distinguish it. But he has to _try_ to intervene and not cause a death here. So he gets up and slightly pulls her off him, just enough for Lawrence to breathe.

The recipient of the abuse sputters for air the second time in the day and hisses profusely from his agitated bruises. He'll admit that wasn't fun, but David's mishandling is one he'll definitely not get over. Though, what is this treatment worth? Screw it! "Okay…, I'll tell you the jumper's name since I know him. Tall fella, about mocha, and finely built. His name is—"

" _Dooo_ tell _Sheriff_ that there's a viable reason Mr. Doe is looking like a ghastly cherub on the floor," emerged an austere looking man with a sickly sweet voice.

David admonishes a look unto the newcomer and asks for identification.

"I'm this man's refuge you've perhaps never uttered he's allowed to have, or else I'd been here. I work with a law firm and I'll be representing Mr. Doe from here on. Release him please so I can enjoy the rest of my day."

"On whose behalf are you here from?"

"That is disclosed information Mr. Nolan. But I'd be _ecstatic_ to serve on my comrade's behalf by taking this man home and settling his nerves I see you oh so jumbled, _tsk-tsk-tsk._ "

"Lawrence here was just willing to confess over my son's case regarding his jumper. I'm sure you can understand how much I value that?" Emma steps toward this attorney with her arms crossed.

"Personal space Ms. Swan, I'm sure you were raised decently to know such," sasses the attorney pushing his pen on Emma to make her fault a step back. "As much as I'd long for proper justice to be served in this… _sensitive_ case, I'd have to act on my orders and retrieve Mr. Doe."

Lawrence heeds to the lawyer and comes beside him, or rather hides behind.

"It's not like we did anything wrong," rings Charming.

"That's a treacherous lie! You and the Sheriff offended me where I have bruises to show for it!"

" _From which you got from attacking me!_ "

"Which," adds Emma, "is a liable arrest to hold Mr. Doe until charges have been asserted. So I think he should resume his seat."

The attorney doesn't say anything but lets his eyes analyze the room noting a fallen chair, an askew table, and how Lawrence was on the ground looking scared and helpless. He stares at Emma, "Lawrence…, please tell me what happened to you from your abuse by Deputy Nolan 'til now."

"My pleasure! The deputy was _attacking_ me and _hitting_ me with his gun until my boss shot him with a dart and then threatened same onto me to which the sheriff arrested me and took me to—"

"I apologize cutting you off, but did Sheriff Swan here read you your rights with your arrest?"

Lawrence becomes struck with bafflement. "My what?"

"Pardon me, your _Miranda_ rights."

"Who's that? There was no Miranda present."

" _Ah_ ," settles the attorney. "So she didn't say anything concerning: _'you have the right to remain silent'_ —"

"Now hold on there we wouldn't do that," David tries to intervene.

" _'If you do say anything, it can be—'_ "

"Emma, tell him you told Lawrence his rights."

" _'to have a lawyer present—'_ "

"Emma?!"

" _I didn't!_ _Ok?!_ You got freakin' shot and—"

" _'if you so desire'_ ," finished the attorney for Lawrence to which he gasps shaking his head. "As for your one phone call?"

"No! I was allowed to call someone?!"

"Mm. It seems everything Mr. Doe has said is inadmissible due to your lack of ethics Sheriff. Not to mention your office abused my client, so he'll sue."

David outrages a _'what?!'_

"Misconduct on behalf of your whole office deputy on mishandling an arrest and depriving the basic rights my client is entitled to. I'd get technical, but I have other issues of the importance, which is actually a generic excuse to dismiss myself from this abhorrent building. So if you may," he hands them a card, "I'll be on my way." Thus exits Lawrence and—

David reads aloud the card. " _Mr. Pride…_ , I couldn't think a name more befitting."

"Yeah, well at least we still have—" but the Sheriff is interrupted from Mr. Pride's appearance again.

"Please excuse me Ms. Swan. I'll just be confiscating Mr. Doe's phone from your illegitimate custody and hoping you trifled with it to add more charges. _Bye-bye._ " He then disappears toward the main floor where the other deputies skittered off to from watching the interrogation until he arrived.

"Sssshit! David, tell me you written the numbers down somewhere?!"

Only response she gets from her dad is not a head shake, but him walking toward the chair and kicking it then resting his hands atop his head. "I'm _so_ sorry Emma. But we still have the toll bridge search to conduct to  hopefully acquire the gun."

Her stomach is churning, her disposition is deflating faster than a balloon, taste buds are jeering at her from the dry sour patch on her tongue, and unappreciative thoughts on being here whirred with energy in Emma's head. Dismissing herself to the bathroom and 'mishandling' a stall or two, she can't help but think of the hopeless things to come from today's venture as she sulks on the floor throwing her face in her hands.


	18. Chapter 18

[" **XYZ** " by Affair] is an ex. of songs that I think would go with the mood of certain scenes throughout the story. U're free to ignore it, but I recommend it since it would give 'power' to some scenes, or else I wouldn't do it. Headphones recommended or anything drowning ppl out since y'know…, ppl suck these days. I do hope it's timed right.

* * *

"I mean, it just boils my blood Snow that-that he can just _waltz_ right in and take our lead!"

"Oh, David…," Snow rubs her husband's shoulder blade to alleviate his tension. "He's a lawyer, they just have more perks than officers."

"And I know that," he sighs. "But Snow, you should've seen Emma's face when I told her I didn't write those numbers. She was devastated—"

"You don't know that."

"I do! I just can't comprehend why she isn't infuriated like the rest of us to find her suspect—she seems so submissive with the occasional no's. But when she literally figured Lawrence had something to do with Henry's jump, you should've seen her eyes. I haven't seen that much fire in them since Regina's death!"

Snow doesn't say anything but bows her head remembering when they did return from the Underworld and the following weeks on how driven Emma was on her job. That was a hard time for everyone; the levels of sentiment every individual held toward the Queen varied so much that is was seldom a group would mourn equally together. Only the royal family mourned together, but even then it seemed each was to their own lament: Henry became more inverted and hostile; Snow shed tears for days, so much so that she honestly cried herself out; David was reserved around company, but behind closed doors they'd be no more, literally he'd come home with bruised hands from bashing a door; and Emma was in her own grievance. Snow knows that her daughter doesn't use drugs, however, it seemed she was on Speed for those weeks.

"Well," she starts, "can't you both find concrete evidence to pin this guy? I don't know, maybe get a warrant to search his home?"

David huffs another sigh forgetting about his melting ice cream. "Believe me, we tried. But the judge denied us any access toward Lawrence—is he even a real judge?"

"Are you a real cop?" she raised a brow.

"I'm a Knight."

"In another land Charming, probably delusional at that, but still." She licked her cone and continued walking before speaking again. "Even if you were granted a warrant to search his home, what's keeping you from doing it yourself? And what'd you think you'd find there?"

"Well, when Regina was here it was pretty easy to go anywhere and do anything since she was the mayor and you had that sort of ties—kinda helped she was a bit scary, too. But with her gone, people are actually waking up and adopting this country's lifestyle. They're getting more technical and bold with their freedom. There's not much respect toward us anymore."

"You mean the heroes or royals?"

He looks to her. "You tell me, Mayor White."

"Guess I set myself up for that."

"Yep! And I don't think we'd find anything except the gun regarding Emma's case. Although, she's persistent that he isn't the one, which I _still_ can't understand. Like—"

"Our daughter has that superpower Charming. So if she's confident it's not him, then I guess it's not him." She resumes licking her cone.

"You sound just like her."

Snow shrugged. "She has my confidence."

"And what from me?"

"Chivalry," she easily answers. "With your bravery and your leadership—"

"I think that's from us both," he smiled toward Snow.

"Mmm. She's the best of us both isn't she?"

"Wouldn't ask for it any other way."

"Yeah…." They gazed toward each other's eyes then shared a passionate kiss. Despite all the chaos running freely, they always seem to comfort each other and that couldn't be more precious than now.

Making there way home, Snow and David decide to take a detour going through the park coming to woodland. Both being ones with nature, they decide to trek through the woods enjoying the romance of it. Trees hung over them occasionally letting some of their leaves sway peacefully down onto the soft earthy ground. The wind was mild but was vivaciously whispering through the dropped leaves that would crunch under either person's shoe with such a refreshing crisp that gave an adorning natural sound for ears to relish in. Twigs and other nature's debris scattered throughout the ground with random glimpses of small animals scurrying from the harsh season to come. And just with the young and energizing sensation in the air of autumn gave the journey hums of liveliness to the both enjoying the other's company.

They were no more than in midst of their platonic journey when Snow spotted a faint glimmer not far over. She was close to ignoring it when suddenly a squirrel heading straight toward it disappeared in light of day not once returning. Thinking she's imagining this, she shakes her head dismissing it until she see's a leaf being blown by the wind also disappearing where the squirrel just gone.

"Hey, David?" she arrests her steps indicating her husband to do same.

"Hmm?" He keeps walking not noticing his wife is behind.

"Honey stop, there's something weird going on over here. And I don't think it's good."

Charming turns inspecting his wife's face and line of directions where's she staring. "What is it?"

"Do you see a faint glimmer right there? Between those two trees?" she points.

"The trees, yeah. But no glimmer or anything. Snow what's wrong?"

"Just follow me." That said, the curious woman picked up a small rock and gradually headed over to the two trees. Feet away from them, she tosses the rock at the gap and instantly concludes she was indeed correct. "Right…, tell me you also saw that."

"Yeah," huffs David. "Definitely."

"Charming, do you know what this means?" They both were facing toward the mysterious gap having inquiring faces.

"Should I?"

"I don't know. This either means that there's another world through there—"

"Like?"

"Narnia? Cos if we're really doing this I need a change of scenery."

"That's a place I can get with. Lot's of sword wielding and adventure—the other option?"

"Either a portal through time, though I doubt it, or this is an invisible barrier and there's a whole lot of something we don't know about."

"Meaning a big baddie…," he nods. "I can probably get with that too, things are starting to slow here."

"Unless," Snow faces her husband, "this has something to do with Emma and Henry. You said it yourself: how Emma suspects something out of this Lawrence guy for Henry's jump. Which obviously arises the question: what's the business of a grown man in a teenager's jump? That just doesn't sound right."

Charming nods again rubbing at his stubble already thinking this over. "Should we contact the others? Emma?"

Snow looks back toward the gap and says, "I don't know…, probably not. What if this is a portal that has a timeframe on it? Could be gone any second. But if it's an invisible barrier then we're practically wasting time and sticking our necks out being caught." She faces him again, "I mean, we've been fine with just us inspecting the suspicious, right?"

"Right, but what if something happens?"

"Let's just not stray far from this… _thing_ and keep our wits end while inspecting whatever this is. For at least a few minutes and then we'll report back to the others. At least we'll have clue what we're dealing with to build upon."

Charming stays quiet for a second mulling this over. If they don't return people will obviously be searching for them, opposed to if they do then all good. "I don't know. We have family to think about, and what if this is something Rumpel's doing?" He really does want to go, but concerns of others are clouding him.

"Trust me, this isn't Rumpel's doing. He's too busy trying to distinguish a piece of parchment. But if you don't want to go then it's all right, honestly." She rests a hand on his forearm.

Looking at the woman who gave him his family, then thinking that someone almost wrenched that away from him, David makes up his mind. His only daughter almost died and his grandson would've been an orphaned, that's something he's not overlooking without a thorough inspection of anything everything. "Let's do it. Like you said, let's not stray far and only get an overview."

Snow smiles to him assuring if he's certain to which he persists he is. "Alright, do you have your gun—just in case."

"Yep. And you your…?"

"Pepper spray and…," she dug through her pocket flourishing out a—"Butterfly knife! Neat isn't it?" She flicked it and all.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Confiscated it from a kid once in my teaching days. It comes in handy for _so_ many things and makes me look like a badass. I call it Winnie."

"Why?"

"Cos it imparts wisdom at unexpected moments. And I dip the knife in honey a lot for my teas and such, so." She perked a smile toward her husband to which he reciprocates back. They're perfect for each other.

"So, do you wanna go first?" he gestured his hand at the gap.

"Didn't know my husband became chicken lately. If you insist—" she started to make way until David halted her.

"Unh-unh. I got it." He smirked at Snow then stepped through the gap disappearing like the leaf and squirrel. All of a sudden his head popped out. "Guess we're dealing with an invisible barrier here, come look." She next steps through.

The expected hurrah of what their eyes settled on was nothing. Only more woods to stretch from every direction introduced itself to the duo. However, what they both immediately notice were tracks, more specifically a foot traffic leading to a certain way from the portal to over yon. It disturbed the both that there were multiple footprints leading to a destination, and the atmosphere of the air so far. Unlike the energetic static of fall in the air Snow and Charming were peacefully enjoying prior, this air was shifted to a muggy feeling buzzing off gloom and despair. This made Charming's spine shiver as if a icy finger trailed along it, and this made Snow feel something catastrophic is only reaching before hitting its pinnacle

They both stuck like glue to each other as they pursued the apparent trail and every once in a while reached for their weapon ready at the nick to defend themselves and the other. This was not a good sensation either were feeling. Crows were cawing circling a distance ahead, sounds emitting from scarce bushes were going but without a furry to show for it, and the air was bone chilling than could be natural. Roots of trees were more notable as they traveled wildly all over being shades darker giving the metaphor of death, like themselves barely seen a drop of water from the heavens in forever.

"Uh, Charming?"

"Yeah?"

"Why'd we decide to take a detour walking home?" Snow squeezed his arm tighter.

"Well," he smacked his lips. "We appreciate nature and thought it'd be romantic and fun…. Not to mention we're practically undercover hippies, so." He cracks a smile from hearing Snow's chortle.

"Yeah. Doesn't really help that I talk to animals and you're—"

"One with the sheep? Yeah, nature was just too in our favor."

"Mm-hmm."

"So, any theories on who were dealing with?"

Snow tilts her head back rummaging through her brain for something feasible, though, they're characters from a book. "Well let's go from the beginning to now."

"Alright…, if we're being truthful I guess we can tick Regina off as our first villain."

" _Reformed_ now, though." Snow hummed not wanting to speak ill of her former step-mother. "Okay, so after her there was…, her again."

"I just said that."

"Yeah, but I thought you were talking about when we were _in_ the Enchanted forest. So I thought of the Evil Queen instead."

Charming's brows knitted together. "Difference?"

His wife throws a glare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he breathed, "just that she was on the offense there, and here when the curse broke. So how can you separate that?"

Both currently at a moderate pace to their unknown destination, Snow trickles their steps until they come to a stop. Before uttering her answer she mindfully begs that no one spots them. Although, seeing how sparse this part of the woods are, she'd doubt there'd be someone they see without warning. "What was Regina's motive when she was attacking me back home?"

"Killing you?" he plainly said.

"And when you joined me and my dwarves along with the rest of the gang?"

"Killing you 2.0…? I'm not seeing where you're heading, Snow."

"Yes Charming, she was trying to kill me. But why?" She quirked her head commonly like the teacher she was.

"Because you stole her 'happiness'?"

She smacked him on his chest giving a scowl. "Her happiness was real David, don't mock it! I naively told her mother how her and Daniel were going to run off together for true love, and that ended up with Cora killing him. Only to follow was her trapped in a marriage she never should've been in. And I'd hate to think about this and my father, but God knows what he did to her behind closed doors. Not to mention she was practically behind closed doors all the time never engaging with neighboring kingdoms like a queen should. David, I _deprived_ her of a proper life and supplied her with nothing but misery that molded the Evil Queen! It's my fault she turned that way. It's my fault her happiness was stripped and Daniel's dead. It's my fault we're here in the first place—in this world—"

"There's nothing wrong with this world," David assures.

"No, there isn't. It's perfect in its own way like ours. But David, if I wasn't the stupid sheltered girl I was long ago, then we'd never be here."

"Yeah, but we'd never would have met if you weren't forced to become a bandit. There'd be no Emma, Henry, our son."

"I became a bandit cos I turned her into that monster everyone hated! She went dark because of me David. Because she had no options and no one's help—no, that's wrong! The only person she could turn to was the _Dark One._ The person who _manipulated_ her for his own selfish needs and resulted everyone here! And she couldn't even find solitude here, David. I can't even _fathom_ reliving the same day for 28 years with no friends or anything to cope—"

"She had Henry though. That has to count for something?"

"Yeah, it does. But don't forget she only had Henry for 10 years to herself before our daughter came and made her feel threatened. Causing Kathryn to go to jail and me being framed, her to drive a wedge between us, Graham dying, then her coming to the point where she had to poison Emma to win. The difference is that in the Enchanted Forest she was the Evil Queen, here she was Regina trying to defend her way of life and to keep Henry to herself."

"He's our grandson though, that means something."

"To tell you the truth, I honestly don't know…," Snow looks beside her to catch her levelness. "You know I love Henry, even if he's…, _suffering,_ from his mother's death still. But from my 28 years in the curse with Henry coming around in the last ten, I don't know." She shrugs. "The love Regina had for him was so special that I knew if anything could bring her happiness, it was our grandson. The only other family she had that didn't make her feel threatened and needed to be closed off."

"And then we ruined that…," he sighed and dropped his head targeting on the disappointment on his past self.

Snow nodded crossing her arms and withdrawing into herself. "We did, David. We made him turn against her and disoriented his thoughts. Made him see her as the Evil Queen and not as Regina, his mother." Her levelness is now diminishing and emotions are crawling through. "We made him see her as something so putrid she _hated_ herself for, but had to hide behind and flaunt because that was the only thing people understood and took to face. I practically made her commit patricide and indirectly matricide…, _I_ killed Cora." Now she's losing it.

Charming reaches out a hand toward her and brings her in. "Hey," he soothed so she could feel it hum in his chest where she was pressed. "You didn't kill anyone. _We_ did. _We_ caused her to feel threatened, _we_ caused her to lose her parents, and make her do things she shouldn't have felt compelled to. If it makes you feel any better, I fueled her hate just as much as you did. Probably more."

"Yeah," she nods then squints her eyes shut. "But you wasn't fault for her death, or Henry barely tolerating us. I bet he hates us—"

"He doesn't—"

"No, no. He does. You can feel the loathing in the room with him. The only thing is that I can't tell who's he feeling it more at. Me? You? Emma? Killian ten times? He more than likely realized that wall we tried to build between him and Regina after the curse and that's partial reason he hates us. The other being her death. Because I killed her."

Charming sighs. "You didn't kill her."

"I might as well have! I caused Cora and Henry Senior to die. Daniel and even Graham. Zeus knows it was probably her or Zelena next that would've tasted my dagger."

"Yeah, but you didn't, ok? Even if you were… _cursed_ killing anyone close to Regina, how would you come up to kill our grandson? Chirp his ear off to death with bird calls?"

Snow gave a watery chuckle from the light relief. "I think the dwarves singing Hi-Ho would do it before me."

"I'd think it'd do it to anyone," he kissed the top of her head. "I know you blame yourself for a lot of things going wrong with you and Regina resulting us here. But, Snow, you have to love yourself even if some of the things you did were shaming. We all have our indecencies."

"That's a mellow way to put it," she smiled still holding onto him.

"You have to be with this sort of job, which," he looks down to her, "isn't _anyone's_ fault."

"Oh yeah, then who's? Fate's?"

David bobbed his head. "You can say that, or if you need something palpable, then Rumpel. Let's admit it: he had this planned since day dawn."

"You mean one?"

"Nah, let's not kid ourselves Snow. He's _old_."

"Oh—" she playfully swatted her husband. "I love you."

"I love _you_." They both embraced each other in a warming hug feeling their tension moderately lift. "Now come on, there's something definitely up if we haven't been spotted yet."

Resuming their hesitant pace, David and Snow kept a keen eye on anything unordinary and telltale signs of anything not. No more than a couple of minutes passed when they came to a fork in the trail where the footprints ceased entirely. One of them looks behind at the current steps and takes notice that those too disappeared. In fact, the trail in general was gone with all to show the fork before them.

"What now?"

David pivots in silence for a bit taking in the scenery before responding. "Honestly, I don't know. For all we know this could be an illusion. Yet again, we're here, so there must be others that were too, only of course with known knowledge of what to do next. What's your gut telling you?"

"Truthfully… that I shouldn't have ate dairy then ventured into the supernatural. As for the paths, I don't think we should take either."

"Well we have to," he sighs.

"I know but…," she shakes her head. "This whole thing is suspicious no doubt. Though I just have this feeling that it's neither way."

"So should we depart now? We did come quite a bit in."

"No. Not only is none of this feeling right, but I do know there's something for us to unveil right now. But if you look at the space between the fork you can see—"

"Mattered grass and leaves…." Charming kneels down inspecting said clue noticing that the grass is patted down than normal and the crinkling leaves of Autumn were practically bits of jagged confetti. Standing, he then walks around seeing if other parts of the ground look same and easily sums it doesn't. Earth's autumn bed looks as always been this season, but his wife is right: out of the whole perimeter around them and a little over, the grass and leaves seem to look as regular as the next unlike between the fork road. "So what you're saying is that if it's neither of these apparent roads that'll lead us wherever, it's instead the plain hidden one?"

Snow digs her hands in her pea coat's pockets and tilts her head. "Sounds like you don't believe me."

"You? Like ever—but just the aspect that there's something hidden within the hidden just makes this even more…"

"Wary?"

"I was thinking suspicious, but that works too." He instinctively reaches where the hilt of his sword would be but comes short.

"Wanna go back still?"

David gives in incredulous face as if that was an egregious remark. "What? This could lead to actual evidence toward Henry and Emma's case, we can't abandon now."

"Ohhh," settles Snow. "Since now you have a 'bone' you're all for this."

"Don't be ridiculous," her husband offered out his hand, "the actual bone awaits us, not the metaphorical." He smirks at her as she takes his hand and they begin their trek on their new path.

Although, 'trek' seems a distinct term when in actuality their supposedly long strides were turning into odd stumbles going downhill. No more than a few meters they begin their quest and already the terrain started to shift to a steep negative slope. So much so that it came to the point where both spouses had to release from each other and use nature's surfaces to help keep balance of themselves from rolling rest of way down. Charming snagged his pant leg a few times and Snow continuously wobbled, losing footing momentarily.

When the ground became stable again, there was not much a difference in the scenery other than their dramatic change of course. In other words, climbing back up to return home would be their demise. Both instantly notice, however, that the trees surrounding them became denser and less sparse, along with the leaves and ground practically being the color of black mulch. The crows they earlier heard cawing had straightaway ceased along with any other sound brought by nature. They make a blind reach for each other's hand quickly.

"Do we…keep going?" Snow tries to look ahead where they're at.

David knits his brows reviewing their setting as well. "I'd say yes, but I can't give where. That was an abrupt change just there." He peers at the hill behind him.

"I'm not too sure 'bout this anymore. The further we get, the more disoriented this becomes. I feel we're in another land."

"Yeah, it does feel that way, though I just know that this is still StoryBrooke. Just a ominous part of it."

Keeping silent for a bit, Snow then radars in on a sound. "Do you hear that?"

"Huh?"

"Muffled murmuring or something." She putted her hand to her ear trying to zone in on the sound.

Charming did same. "I feel like it's coming from straight ahead. There's like a magnetic pull happening, do you feel it?"

"Yeah…, I do. Like the energy of a crowd."

Clasping tighter onto the other's hand and dragging their feet with timid determination, Snow and Charming inch closer and closer to the disordered murmurs slightly turning into whispers of seemingly air ahead of them. It was like voices with no body presenting themselves. And each step closer to this almost distinct sound gave a live feeling humming around of that would be at an event. When they approach close to the still unknown, immediately felt by the two was the heaviness of the air itself like there was a thick fog enveloping them. Their movements suddenly became sluggish and more arduous to proceed giving both an impossible workout. Each step taken depleted their energy and slowly exhausted them and causing them to become stiff.

"Snow…," David clenched his teeth from the arising pain traveling in his arms. "I think we should… head back now…."

Said woman was having a difficult time herself with a far throb pulsing through her leg, the other starting to strain. She barely mutters out an okay before trying to turn. "I… can't… my body… is _stiffening!_ " From these words gritted there came a sudden cloud aloft darkening everything further than normal. Even the trees were gradually turning tar black from the roots up.

"I can't… either!" struggled Charming having to let his wife's hand go from the lead in his arm building. Both arms became so heavy that they were causing him to awkwardly sink to the ground in a slow motion. With their minds focused and worried on their movements, they failed to capture the torrent of shadows moving like train carts below them with glimpses of the actual ground compared to the putrid black rushing.

"Charming?" she cries out hearing from behind him slowly descending. " _David?!_ "

" _Just… keep… going! I'm… right—_ "

"But—"

" _behind you! …just keep…_ ," words are caught in his throat when a keen ache occurs in his head as he kneels. It feels that someone is injecting a long silvering needle on the side of his head causing his vision to blur in-and-out.

Not even Snow can ask about the welfare of her husband when every sound already dull becomes suddenly mute with just the race of her heartbeat. The air is becoming condensed quicker than known making their movements and surroundings feel surreal. Rasping croaks and hyena laughs emit from the trees that are intensely building in deafening color making them seem impossibly high and towering like native redwoods peaking to the colorless sky. The once faraway crows now circle above them in a perfect circle cawing and flapping profusely letting their voices be heard by no one other than nature. A low rumbling is trembling on the ground below them with still the current of shadows parading making everywhere and thing look hideously dark. These shrills of terror were still hushed from the princess's ears with just the crescendo beat of her heart, as for David's—who only feels the sharpening sensation of eyes criss-crossing and vision even more blurring making figments of standalone shadows of people display in front of him. It's too much for the both; shadows are dancing and merrily laughing, and crows are haughtily singing while swooping down dangerously close to the two. It's just too much, just too much, that the last of what both see is the sudden ceasing of the crows from air like vapor, and the tar black draining from the trees with the diminishing ground shadows all swirling like a whirlpool in the couples exact spot leaving no hint of anything behind beside two lagged bodies.

* * *

"I want to know when he'll finally be rid from here so my family won't be scared anymore!"

"Yeah!"

"He's right!"

"Rid the bastard!" Were the continuous agreements and murmurs from the crowd. "You're taking too long!"

"Oi! And ye're being a bloke gettin' on me nerves! So I'd advise for you to shut-up and keep quiet 'til all the questions are answered!"

" _Boooo!_ " the crowd jeered. "Get off the stage and get the real leader up here!"

"I am the leader!"

"No you're not!" proclaimed another from the back. "If you were then this would've been done and over with! You're no leader, you're an ass!"

"Ay, you know what—" Hook started to make his descent from the stage until a finely built gentlemen came to him and grabbed his arm.

"Ah! _Kai get off me_ —"

"Ahijah thinks its best you take a breather real quick since you're getting pissed."

"I'm not bloody pissed! It's these sodding tossers thinking they can get the better of me!"

"Definition of pissed bromo."

Hook scoffs at the eased response and snatches his arm away marching out toward the v.i.p. room where the others reside. He mumbles cusses and curses for the rudeness and alike these people display the whole way over, and faintly hears his comrade taking stage.

Kai easily hops onto the stage with a spring in his step already feeling his ligaments stretch. Every time they rendezvous here there seems to be that weird sluggish barrier. Himself hasn't much experience with it since he was always on time to these meetings, but cos he got enrapt in hanging with Henry again, time easily slipped. Luckily only a light scold was given for his tardiness. "People…," he raised his arms, "chillax won't ya? You'll get tensed which'll then lead to lactate buildup then to cricks and on to bitchiness, and who wants that?" He gestured with his hands. "I remember this one time—"

"Get off the effin' stage and get your boss already!"

Kai stops his rant and easily targets who's suspect to that remark. "Hey Dale? Shuddup."

"That's not my name!"

"Well an insignificant, interrupting piece of waste like you could only have an insignificant cliché of a name. Now shut-up or you'll be my food." He glares at the sea of masks as best he can.

Right then another voice yells out that's closer to the front, "Who's that girl always around the Pod?!"

"Yeah, who is she?"

"Yeah!"

"She'll ruin everything! We ought to kill her too!"

" **HEY!** " Kai deeply admonished glaring through his mask. "No one ever said anything about killing! I swear to Allah if you touch a lick of hair on that boy's head I will—"

"What?" someone challenged. "You'll do what exactly? _Jump us?_ "

"Something like that," he states simply, and jumps off the stage taking languid steps toward the crowd for which are departing with haste like he's the plague. "Just like the Pod, I will seclude you in a remote place." He makes a slight turn. "You won't see me but will hear the oddest of things making noise…," another turn. "And then when you'll least suspect It, _something_ will grab you by the ankle—" instantly he grabs a straggler's shirt boring his eyes on their jest's mask while cocking his head a bit. The whole crowd holds their breaths waiting for the person to be release from Kai's tight grip. "And do you know what happens from there?"

The jester mask weakly shook its head letting the fear in their brown eyes show.

"Neither do I." Kai releases the feeble man and dusts off their shoulder then continues ambling toward his certain destination. "Either the shadows will hold onto you letting me beat you with a crowbar until your whimpers become even more pathetic than a dog's—," he finally comes face to face to the person that declared the slander of killing Henry and adopts a rigid stance. "Or they'll drag you down to the darkest trenches you could think of." He inspects the petite person's mask noting all the variations of blue highlighting with prim lips completing the look.

"Like?" was the voice of the woman.

"Think."

The blue woman scoffed. " _Hell?_ "

A sick smirk appeared on Kai's hidden features as he invaded the other's space lowly whispering, "Your guess is as good as mine. Though," he bores right at her mask seeing the eyes are also blue, "there are _far_ more worse places than what the ashes of hell can bring." Turning on his heel efficaciously, Kai departs from the crowd back to the stage as the rest of the room quiets after straining to hear what was uttered to the blue woman.

"Right!" perks the young man already like nothing happened. "This meeting will resume in twenty, refreshments are somewhere in the back and there are no bathrooms. Piss yourself for all I care!"

 **~Cfys~**

"Shove your pipe breaths somewhere else, that won't help me with those mongrels out there!" Hook resumes a flustering pace mumbling more things to himself.

"I believe the only mongrel rabbiting is you dear pirate," said the sickly sweet voice in the far corner with a chess piece in his hand. He seemed to be stuck moving his pawn over without clearing a path to his queen.

Lawrence dismayed from the jab at his helpful suggestion. "Well I'd rather have pipe breath than drown my lungs in that disgusting vice of yours!"

"Aye, at least I'm still alive drinking me kidneys out. You on the other hand will see a quick death on your resembled weight of a _pig._ "

Lawrence gasps.

"Your insults are becoming repetitive Killian, you're _boring_ me…," Pride lazily said. "Why not call him a vacuous cow?"

"Because," walked in Kai, "females have more balls than Laurie will ever have." He flopped down in the seat across from the 'lawyer'.

"That's not my name!"

"Sorry Larry."

Lawrence gasped harsher than what could be deemed dramatic. " _Don't ever out of all names **that** one!_ " The man abruptly stood glowering at everyone in the room.

"Oh hush Lauren, like anyone's going to listen to you." Hook swigs his rum.

"You're one to talk fuckboy, cos if I—"

" _Nephew…_ ," sing-songs Pride across the table giving a subtle cutthroat glare at Kai. "What did I tell you about insulting others?"

Kai doesn't reply instantly but tries to rival a look onto his uncle with his jaw bulging.

"Well?" pushes the uncle.

Right from the corner of his eye Kai spots Jafar entering from another entrance with the cane peeking in first. He petulantly blows a stream of air our deflating in his character. "You said—"

"With the mask off, show me respect," he hums.

With constant grumbles taking off the horror theatre mask showing two halves of a face—one being the laughing jubilant side, and the other being the sheer terror side—Kai locks eyes with the other man and gives his response. "You said if I were to ever disparage someone, use _wit_ than foul."

"Indeed," drawled the lawyer knocking over Kai's knight with a pawn knowing the consequences to come. "Though, you could say Killian is, how you put, a _fuckboy_." He raised a brow the pirate's way with a glowing smirk and white knight dangling loosely from his fingers.

Jafar pauses in his tracks and looks at his purring friend thinking was that an insult or something other. "I see you've all made yourself comfortable," he says taking off his jacket and taking a seat in his chair by the fireplace. "How goes the meeting?"

Hook scoffs. "I don't know, you tell me. All I have out there are—"

"Thus cascades the woes…, for someone looking intriguingly _delish,_ you seem to keep me numb with your wails."

Kai squints at his uncle and mutters, "Now that sounded gay."

"Problem…?"

"When you want to hook up with Hook, yeah!"

"I don't sail down that current." The pirate steps back and quickly scolds from Lawrence's chortle and Pride's lifted brows.

" _Really…?_ Cos if I'm not mistaken, you seem to have your eyes on a certain chocolate bonbon."

"I'm married," states the pirate like that'll do.

"Mmm…," purrs the lawyer as he loosens his tie against his dainty vest and rolls his sleeves. "Never stopped me before, just saying."

"You seem to be saying a lot with so little," said the vizier.

"That's how you get your point across Jaff—"

Hook perplexes at the nickname.

The lawyer continues, "What? Do you want him first?" and gives an innocent look with the chess piece slightly covering his lips. "When's the last time you had a sating night?"

"And that about does it," comments Kai. "It's one thing to listen about one night stands. But when it involves nothing but a sausage fest in here with a tug-a-war for Hook, I lose the bile in my stomach."

"Yes, well don't be so fast to judge mister," gives Jafar swiveling in his chair. "Yourself seems to be getting cozy with a certain boy."

Hearing this, Kai widens his eyes in mid stretch feeling a spotlight on him.

"So we're all fruity in here then?" muses the pirate downing more rum. "Well except me of course." Another swig.

Lawrence snorts at Hook's statement. "Funny you say, because I don't recall in my day men wearing _woman's_ makeup."

"I don't recall you ever being a man," ripostes Hook.

The other man starts a buildup of red in his face. "A man doesn't _hang up_ when his partner's in trouble— _by his wife!_"

"Aye, well I did call ye a lawyer didn't I?"

"No you didn't! Ahijah called me a lawyer you—"

"Of which was via me wasn't it? Ye're welcome"

The lean Mr. Pride looks over to Kai, who's mulling of their next move on the chess board. "I think we should still sue…."

"Over me dead body! Ye're not going to sue Emma." Hook flashes his namesake only making the pudgy man across from him slightly quail.

"Relax Killy, the last thing I'd want to see are those smoldering eyes of yours be arid."

"Yes, suing will only add unnecessary complications," affirms the vizier.

"Well _boo-hoo_ ," falsely yawns Pride. "This drear town is really settling the depression on me—do take extra caution on your next move, nephew. I'm sure I'll be dead when it's my turn."

A scowl was aimed toward the lawyer from Kai. Jafar stands and rounds to the young man reviewing the trouble he's going through.

"Speaking of this dusted town," begins the pirate, "I 'bout know every face in the Rabbit Hole, and has never once seen that bartender. What's his num—I mean story? For purposes of the town's safety that is," he leans on Ahijah's desk.

Kai chortles. "Real smooth Captain Obvious."

"What?"

"Nothing…, just either you're not as dedicated to your marriage, or you're racial profiling assuming Joy will cause trouble." He then goes back studying the board with his main guardian.

"Cool your temper," lowly whispers Jafar while moving a bishop but thinks better of it. He then uses magic to make the pieces move themselves causing Pride to glower at the duo.

"How ye know Joy's name, lad?"

"Not important how Kai know's the name Killian—"

" _Oooh…_ , sounds a bit enticing when you say his name," hums the lawyer directing a piece of his own. "Do say mine—"

"No," asserts the magician. "I do believe, though, that enough time's been wasted for your tension to alleviate. Let us— _checkmate!_ " delightfully smirks the magician toward his worldly friend from the evident win.

Pride begins tightening his tie and grooming himself up while inspecting the board. "Tut-tut. Shame you let the morsel of 'victory' get to that flagrant mind of yours. Seems we need Lucien here to remind you of your place," he kneels shamming to tie his shoe and with obvious intentions knocks the board over letting the live pieces helplessly roll in place. " _Oops._ Apologies Kai." He said while keeping eyes on Jafar noticing, with satisfaction, an eye-twitch.

"I'm not sure I can handle anymore of those thickheaded wankers out there," scorns Hook sourly swigging the little rum left in his flask.

"You're an alcoholic, you know that?" Lawrence begins rising getting ready as well.

Kai puts on his mask along with Pride. "I don't know," prods the latter, "I enjoy people who can hold down their liquor. Makes it a more _interesting_ time…," he twirls past Killian letting his eyes roam behind the mask; his was just as intriguing as Kai's, only his had an exaggerated scar on an eye.

Ahijah puts on a simple mask of his own, "All right you pests, let's put on a good show. There seems to be some uninvited guests."

* * *

Head shaky, heart racing, the thick fear that ceased only just with still the feel of darkness looming were evident to both Snow and David as they awoken from their nightmare. Gone was the Goodman Brown woods that only drank black and here, presently, was an empty room entitled to it's own organic dark and shadows with the barest of light illuminating from the bottom of the door. David stays heaped on the ground letting the dusty coolness belonging to it chill his forehead that feels on fire while Snow futilely squints perceiving their blacken surroundings.

"David?" She feels around for her husband's body. "David?"

Scrunching his face from the subtle irritability Snow's voice can have, he feebly groans signaling he's there.

"Honey, where are you? Are you all right?"

"Mm… yeah," he mutters slowly lifting his face. "Are…are you all ri…." His face floats back to the floor.

"Hold on honey, let me find a light switch." In no time she does find one and flicks it on—

Then off—

Then on again—

Right back to off. "Agh! The light does't work—Charming, just keep making noise so I can find you."

"Mmm Iiii right 'ere." He clears his throat to talk clearly. "I am near… here… mere…," he chuckles, "Hey Snow?"

"Yes Charming?" she follows against the wall coming close to him.

"Meerkat… guess who's that?"

"I don't know honey…, Timon?"

"Yeah! You know meh so well." He slurred while sluggishly moving his limbs to discard the numbness. "But ware are we?"

"That's what I'm figuring out but—yes!" Her hands patted all over David until they reach his face. "Charming are you ok?"

"Yeah, just… just get dark away. It's makin' worse—" he reaches at his head from the harsh thumps happening.

"Don't worry," she said while gently laying him down eyeing where the faint light came from under the door. Carefully creeping toward it then inspecting both ends of the corridor they seemed to be connected to, Snow returns and drags her husband from the unidentified room into the hall where there's dimmed lights spread far apart to give it an overall unnatural feeling. Seeing his face clearly, a flood of relief courses through to her from seeing no marks or anything alike. She takes his face in her hands and hugs him dearly.

David returns the affection and gradually feels the numbness cease throughout his body, especially the arms. "I think I can get up now."

"Are you sure? There's no rush—"

"Nope, there is definitely one Snow. We're practically in enemy territory not even knowing who or what the enemy is. We gotta leave, now." He takes his wife's hand grinding his teeth rising the whole way up. When he does fully stand, he starts to lean forward with her catching him.

"David you don't look too good…"

"I'm fine. Let's just worry on getting out of here. Which way should we go?"

Neither both ends of the hall looked promising with just black doors and grey walls barely offering any life. "Let's go left, there's more light than the other." She takes his arm and slings it on her shoulder as they begin their wary walk down the hall both not hiding their disdain for this place.

"So, are we not going to talk about what just happened to us in the woods?"

"Nope," shook Snow. "Let's save that when we're out of here."

In a crossed mix between nervously shuffling and briskly skittering with a wide eye search for anything abnormal—which was about everything—the deputy and mayor begin to feel the rising fear they felt earlier in the woods before their unconsciousness. Too many turns with the same minimal aesthetic qualities of the corridors made this task feel impossibly off. It was as if with every turn they made they ended up in the same hall making it all feel like a labyrinth. That or they were in a very generic office building.

"We're lost."

"No we're not, let's not give up. If there's a way in then there must be one out." Charming reached for a door and jingled the knob not succeeding opening it. Him and Snow tried the next and next and so on with the same expected result causing their anxiety to build. They decided to give one more a try before panicking.

"David…"

He nods agreeing with her slacked jaw. "We have to go."

"Go where?! It's another hall with even fewer lights! I feel like we're in a thriller—and those never end well!" This new corridor before them was wider with said fewer, sparse lights and worn out doors having the same minimalist feeling to it. Only this time doom suspended in the air—probably cos it's an eerier hall.

"And what Snow? Jingle a hundred more doors before we settle on something similar or far worse? No, we have to continue."

"It's my fault we're here," she mutters.

"No it's not. We now know what we're dealing with—"

"Which isn't known—"

"Which is _enough_. So far it seems like this person likes to play mind games and use the natural to inflict fear, like the woods. We just need to put on our brave faces."

"Don't brave me!"

"No, you're right," Charming squeezes her, "Merida would definitely have this in the bag."

Snow pouted her lips from the poke, then slicked her face to cool straightening her back and holding her husband's arm tighter. "I'm not afraid of the dark; I laugh in the face of dark, ha!"

Charming smiled brightly tightening his grip as well. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

More turns, less doors, darker corners, no leads, and dripping brave faces became the common variable for a while as the venerable couple muscled their way through the live thriller. Snow honestly expected to see a child at the end of each hall they turned toward, and held her breath to keep a shriek from bursting. David likewise had a cool demeanor but internally was vibrating from the intense darkness that touched every surface. He was slowly regenerating his health, but his psychological state concerning the dark was quailing. He watched his fair share of horror movies—one of the things he enjoys about this world; the cinema—but oh damn has he never felt so evoked from something he's never really experienced. Sure back when he and Snow lived in their castle it was always dark somewhere all hours of the day and such, but even then it was comforting to know there was at least a guard around the corner.

With the unexpected lingering around the next corner, and only the sound of their steps offering noise, as well as hearing a light or two busting out halls away then to reignite, was sure enough to make Charming yearn to cower somewhere for awhile.

"I swear," whispered Snow, "if this next door leads to another creepier looking hall, I'm giving up on the horror genre."

"Not all them are bad to give up on."

"Yeah," she chuckles holding the knob. "Says the one that flipped over the couch during Annabelle."

"You're still serious about that? How'd you like it sitting down from getting popcorn then suddenly see a kid running turning into that _thing?_ "

She shrugged. "Don't know, I was too busy laughing with Emma." She ignores the scowl from him as she let's the door swing open, surprisingly, and blanches her face forgetting their banter.

"Another hall, this time pitch black."

"Is it me or is there a speck of white at the end?"

David nods his head and pulls out his phone to use the flashlight.

"So I guess this means you want to continue…?"

"Who knows, might be a way out." He eases and urges Snow to start walking down the fear inducing hall. Unknowingly to both, it was wider than the prior hall and made of concrete all around. Though, just from the hollow chill in the air and their shared scraped steps, they easily deduced the latter.

"And if it isn't?"

"Isn't what?"

Snow irritably sighs. "A way out?"

Charming shines the light at her face causing her to go cross eye a sec. "There's no use thinking like that, Snow. If we can find a way out of curses and all the other adversities we've faced, then we can sure as hell find a way out of here. Yeah, it might be longer, but we have a family to return to."

"I know, but if it's something going to put us in harm I just want to be prepared."

"My gun's fully loaded and there's your pepper spray and knife. We've had less." He leaves no room for argument and again urges his wife to quicken their pace. He's trying his best not to succumb to the skin crawling darkness and what seems to be shadows taunting him wherever he flashes his light.

Walking for what felt a stretching mile, Snow reduces her stride having a puzzled visage. "David, what's that noise? Is it—" her steps arrest and back becomes rigid not believing what she's hearing again.

"The same noise we were following earlier…," he dropped his arm off her shoulder reaching for his gun, her for her knife. "What now?"

Whispering, she says, "Turn off your light, they won't expect us if we be stealthy."

Cautiously inching toward the oncoming bright light and the harsh whispers and murmurs ahead of them, the valiant duo try their best to solidify their faces from the scene before them. Moreover, a scene that plummets their stomach and freezes their movement.

A room no more than half the size of a chapel's basement with stone colored walls and a dusty aegean floor all being impenetrable concrete extended in their vision. Fluorescent lights with rusted cages sealing them in hanged far and wide illuminating enough light to somehow exaggerate even further these commoners dramatized masks. Each body had their own eye-straining tragedy or jovial disguises either covering their faces wholly or partially, all conveying the atmosphere of sinister and ominous—the former strongly felt. Not only did that shock the valiant couple, but also the regular attire everyone had on foreshadowing these were townspeople, an estimation of 50.

Across the room was a wooden plank stage that seen better days, yet had more to come showcasing three people also in masks. Two of them wore suits and were sitting while the third was pacing to and fro with regular clothes, though, more appreciative of leather.

"Snow, is that…?"

"I don't know—I can't tell." She rises on her toes trying to examine if that is indeed who she thinks it is. "Charming, do you see anything?"

"No, not as much as you. If that's him, where's the hook?"

"Screw the hook, if that's him why is he here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Even if so, it doesn't look like him."

"We need to get closer, foll—" Snow's words cease when she looks at her husband. "David, how'd you get that mask?"

"Huh? What are you—" his face alarms at Snow's face that's covered by a mask of its own. Both full masks were pristine porcelain and masquerade themed suiting each self nicely. Snow's had attentive detail more at the eyes with ruby red lips, and David's had little wispy detail with the white doing more of the intimidating.

They slowly feel at their own porcelain faces tracing their fingers along the fine detail then to take it off, or—

"It's stuck!" Snow feels at the back of her head and astonishes that there isn't anything keeping the mask in place. They're just easily fitted on their faces.

"Doesn't matter," Charming reaches at his weapon while offering his free hand. "What does is that we get a good look at the stage and crowd while blending in. If anything, we're less prone to get caught."

"Alright…, let's resume over here—there's less people meaning we can get a clearer view." That said, the couple shimmied their way behind the rest of the crowd while keeping their faces low and voices restrained when bumped into someone.

"So," ends Hook least suspecting any new intruders that just entered. "that's why ye just can't set fire to the sheriff's station. Because it's _stupid_."

"Well this mission is taking too long! Just get him out before he causes anymore damage!"

"Yeah! You said it yourself: the spirits or whatever are getting agitated and need their host. Hurry and get him the fuck out before they unleash on us!"

"I'm with her!"

"Me too!"

"Yeah, get him out!"

Hook raises a brow and lowers the mic, and bows toward Ahijah. "Erm… what'd you tell these blokes? I don't recall spirits part of the hull."

"Just a little lie to keep them on the top of their minds when words come into play." He straightens his posture and buttons a button. "Do not worry, there are no spirits or anything. Their overall concerns are the things Henry could unveil if his emotions unravel out of hand any point."

"Ta—they seem to be a bit mo' dodgy than usual…"

"Indeed, though, only cos it's almost time for Vermont to happen," the vizier then directs his face at Killian.

The other scoffs scrunching his face. "In a month or two it'll happen. For now they shan't think of harming him or anything other."

"Why is it every time I bring this plan up you seem to go on the offense? You act as if I would harm him."

"Well 'scuse me if I'm bit skeptical on your affairs given that ye _sic'd_ your pet onto him and caused serious injuries to him _and Swan_."

Jafar rises from his seat still directing his sight on the pirate. " _Inadvertently_ was the case of your wife; if anything, this should be a wake up call for the both of you. And please discard the ill you speak of Kai—I may not have full reign over him, but we have more a relationship than you ever will with Henry. So stop, and realize what's to come." Saying all this he reached for the mic from Hook's hand, still keeping contact. "Besides, it's not like you won't see him ever again. You're more than welcome to visit him—in fact, I actually recommend it. By then he'll probably be welcomed to the idea of warming up to you." He then steps aside from the other and looks onto the crowd.

Hook takes spot next to Pride while letting his leg bop a bit from the anxiety steadily rising in him.

"Mm…," criticizes Pride, "so you're more open to _him_ enclosing in your space rather than me?" says him with legs crossed and hands linked to the side not giving an ounce of concern toward the crowd.

"Yes, well, he seems to be less interested in me compared to you, so." Hook shams a smirk.

The lawyer tousles his hair with one hand. "True that may be to _some_ extent, you seem to be bothered by something he just said. Mind divulging it to yours truly?" He twiddles his foot.

"Mind tellin' me why exactly we need all these people here for a kidnap easily done by less?"

Pride shrugs. "They're part of the new order…, or _something!_ dreadful like such—there isn't much care I have for it." Next he tries to reach for Hook's nape.

Back over by Snow and Charming, who are trying to discern this other person speaking to a suddenly compliant crowd, they talk among themselves on what all this could be.

"Still have no idea." Snow answers to the other. "But there's a lot of talk about 'he' and weird concerns these people have. What's a Pod?"

"I don't know, but it must stand for something. Is there suppose to be a space pod or something alike landing?"

"Well this is obviously a conspiracy, so they perhaps do immerse themselves in E.T., but just… it just doesn't make sense! And I still can't make out if that's Killian or not. It looks him yet it doesn't."

Right when Charming is about to answer, a new and intruding voice joins in. "It's not, obviously there's no hook and the face is a little different looking. Also, not all conspiracy meetings deal with aliens, that's cliché."

Similar to a daft person switching a restricted switch causing everything to suddenly stop, was the same effect that overcame both Charmings from hearing this stranger. David is immediately halted by Snow for reaching his gun, while herself is casually resting her hand in the pocket with the pepper spray. Despite everyone's faces covered, their eyes aren't.

"So, why exactly is Snow White and Prince Charming here? It's not like I left anything revealing for you to find me…."

This time David halts Snow from turning and going on the offense. When they turn together facing the voice they hear, straightaway Snow's face loses any color left and David's furiously heats seeing who it is. They know that mask.

"You're going to say something or what?" Kai arrogantly says while leaning on the wall like this is a casual event they're all at.

Snow stays paralyze from surprise and shock, though, David doesn't. "What is there to say when we already know?"

"I dunno…, maybe accusations how I—"

"How you _jumped our grandson_ and almost _killed our daughter?_ You're right, it does need to be said."

"Yes! Right there is what I want! I can just _feel_ the pissiness heating off you, and frankly I like it. Also, I didn't touch or do anything _hoorah!_ to your daughter. That was all her." Behind the mask he was smiling.

Snow decides to finally join, but locks the last statement away for later. "So you admit that it was you who jumped Henry?"

"Well I mean," he pointed to his left temple, "he gave me that mark, or I guess 'cosmetic injury' he would say. And might I add that was before I did anything legit to him, _sooooo_ ," he smoothly nodded, "yeah." Another glow smile he did.

"Can you at least tell us why you did it?" she asked.

"Uh… well," he tilted his head, "let me just put it out there I didn't want to. Y'know, it's not my style to do any harm to an innocent, just to douche-bags like your hubby—" he gave a cocky salute toward Charming, "but uh, it was something that had to be done. Like a ritual! So now he's like in the club, or something like that, I don't know. The deets are still being hashed out." He awkwardly scratched his neck.

"Club…?"

"… _shoot_ …" he mutters. "Well I'm just gonna stop there cos I might blab something that could get _me_ in trouble and we don't want that do we?"

" _I do_ ," Charming growls with an itching palm to attack.

"And I do too," he sardonically nods but does mean it honestly. "But you won't be able to soon, and I know that sucks a lot like Hook, but man you just gotta get with."

It cannot be described enough on the amount of irritation and incense rising in Charming from this Kai fella altogether. The words, cocky attitude, and demeanor with the nonchalance stance is causing the lactate build up in him, and those lead to cricks. "And what makes you think we won't take you?"

Kai doesn't reply but stares off toward the crowd where the blue lady he was threatening earlier is looking back. Actually, there's a couple of others looking his way with the Charmings, and that alone makes his skin crawl. "As much as I love talking with y'all, it's probably— _nope_ ," he shook his head seeing someone far over making there way over. "It's definitely time for y'all to leave, thank me later."

His sanity snapping like a twig, Charming barely gets a lunge toward the smart aleck before the microphone of the speaker does a high shrill stopping everyone's movement and low murmurs.

"Right… I believe that's enough casual disruption," finishes the vizier staring at the crowd but scrutinizing where Snow and David are.

And oh they felt it.

Suddenly someone snarks beside them, "You know it's _very_ disrespectful to ignore the speaker David. No wonder why Emma is _so untamed_ …"

Spotting where the familiar voice came, David without doubt sees the swanky Mr. Pride also leaning on a wall resting his hands in his trousers with a blasé stature. He just knows it's him even with the creepy mask on. "What are you—"

" _Shhh…_ ," he signals at his mask's lips then points effortlessly to the stage.

Jafar continues his talking with his own mask being a black Venetian concealing the whole face. "Now I know it's frightening to think of the possibilities the Pod could do to this quaint town you all have immense pride in. But let me remind you he is also _human_. So without say, that means you treat him as such and not like scum."

 _"Well he is!"_

"Hmm…, please raise your hand who said that, so you can justifiably explain."

Said person nobly raised their hand.

"Ah, thank you."

With the nearest gasps and spasm jumps around this person, those close witnessed firsthand what Kai earlier spoke of where shadows quickly snaked around the victim's legs and instead of stopping there, decided to engulf that person wholly, making them as black as death and as silent as a shadow—which they practically were. Everyone held their breaths stricter than can be done waiting for the literal darkness to drop like a dime, but instead heard a high shrieking, agonizing scream in the strained silence, and the darkness dropping like a cloth no longer covering its object with the person disappearing through the concrete ground leaving nothing behind—almost like a sick magic act. Everyone recoiled back.

"Now since the garbage has been disposed, let's continue…, oh yes! The Pod is no more different than ourselves and has been through enough hardships as it is, with a troubling amount of more to come. So please show your respect for the remaining time until his leaving."

"But he's… not normal…," timidly said someone praying for no repercussions like that one guy.

"Yeah…"

"Mm-hmm"

Jafar analyzes the unanimous concurring crowd—exception being the Charmings and partially Kai—and summons his cane to float from his taken seat to his hand.

Snow and David unbelievably blinked from this—aside from that person's disappearance.

The magician consents to this with a fair nod while sauntering. "Yes…, I guess he rather isn't. Yet, neither is any underdog. He is just a boy that is at a disadvantage unknowingly expecting worse to come without purpose. And without purpose there's practically no life to live, and that's what he feels; moreover, I know firsthand from both him and myself. The harsh realities we're to face are more precise and distinguishable to us than others," he gestures to himself and the crowd to sense at inclusion. "From this we know vividly the intricacies and strings life throws at us while we observe behind scenes of those most blessed, while we hide in the shadows waiting for the impeccable moment to assail those who aren't like us. Us, that are never given the upper-hand; us, that are flung into worse with towering hurdles, yet we _push_ through and still remain hidden not vaunting our tragedies just prevailed; moreover, us, that are treated as the stalest and treacherous of muck because we have visions, dreams, goals of our dearest interest that's supposed to be _praised_ and not ** _condemned_** —"

Crowd nods their heads and mutters their agreement.

"nor **_denounced_** or **_censured_** while the fortunate others get to snood their noses in the flesh and materialistic gems the world offers! Riches, titles, drugs, harlots—all of it—vile and disgusting when not properly valued the way it should be."

"By us…?" Someone says confusedly, but instantly drives on with realization. " We should be the ones valuing it with the worthy praise it deserves!"

"Exactly!" he pointed his cane where the voice declared. "We may look like failures and are ranked as scraps that a dog seeks out with its hollow ribs and patched fur, balding with rashes all over…, but we are the _most_ fearsome!"

" _Yeah…_ "

"He's right!"

"Do not let our 'grotesquery' illusion to you of our 'ineptness' and 'imbecility' and take root in your simpleton minds perceiving only white or black; good or bad. _We do not see that!_ " He bores directly over where the Charmings are, who are trying to cower in the low shadows offering all of a sudden. "We only see ashes of an overcast sky, the intermediate, the grey. Relishing in that where our sins are not held to such scrutiny, nor liberally held free from judgement—where tyranny and turmoil and chaos could emerge—are the only factors, only way of life, our purpose, is all that we need. I do not care for the good, I do not care for the bad, I care for the balance! That is all that's important!"

 _"Whoo!"_

 _"Balance is all we need! Even the scales!"_

 _"Preach!"_ Kai hollers then snorts.

The vizier pauses letting everyone continue their cheering. When they start settling down—Snow and Charming attempting to gradually creep away—the magician, the masked Venetian, rests his voice to a normal level staying stalk still focusing his exact line of sight at the intruding couple, speaking the next like he's face-to-face to them. "Instead… instead we subconsciously _cheer_ for them, our sins, because they are us. We are who we are, and what we are because of them. Whether friend or wicked foe…"

"You should leave now," Kai whispers trying to urge them along feeling what's coming next.

"What?!" dismays Snow. "We just can't leave you here without arresting you, that's crazy!"

David nods and keeps Pride in his peripheral.

"Nooo…, what's crazy is that _you're_ still here after the totalitarian shit you just witnessed. So you oughta scoot, right now."

In the background, " _Heaven or hell…_ "

"Snow's right, you're leaving with us, _now_." David reaches for his gun to aim it lowly at Kai to persuade him.

"I can see you're both serious," he looks to the gun then to them, "and it's cute, no lie. But if you're too stupid to see, I'm actually helping you before worse comes to terms. So come on and just—"

Kai is interrupted when David directs his gun at the young adult's abdomen getting in close proximity, that is before Pride swoops in and snatches the gun away unloading it and all.

"Or a hero or villain… we are just us. We are _trapped_ in our own skin seeing the truth before us every day in our mirrors varying looks onto it. _But is that really a bad thing?_ For us I mean. Not our lovely newcomers giving their hasty adieu."

High in the air was the confiscated disarmed gun being led throughout the crowd by Pride then handed to the vizier. The former them whispering something in the latter's ear while the rest of the others cautiously murmur to themselves from this display, and the invigorating speech just halted.

Kai worries a look under his disguise. "You have to go right the fuck now."

"Not until Henry gets justice," Snow reminds with David grabbing the younger's bicep.

"I'm sorry, but did you not just hear the speaker announce you two?" More so, why aren't they also noticing certain members of the crowd slowly inching their way to them? The blue woman who was in the far middle of the crowd is now dead spot in the back subtly moving horizontally to them. Another masked person, this time a gentleman with a sturdy built frame wearing a stained yellow sort of white mask is also shuffling his way over. They've been doing this for quite awhile.

"No, we heard, and frankly we're not afraid. Our main—" All of a sudden the mic voice deepens gaining everyone's attention.

"My apologies for the delay everyone, I just received important word of something. However, before I divulge this information, just know that the skin we're supposedly trapped in is nothing more than a crafty image you paint yourself to be. There is no harm or wrongness being who we truly think we are without the added baggage hindering us from fulfilling our designated roles. Do not craft yourself to be something you are not, but instead be what you truly believe yourself to be that's honest to you and everyone's eyes. Because we just are…, and when we are, we do that to the _utmost_. And so ladies and gentlemen I must inform you that these newcomers supposedly leaving without a proper goodbye is the only, Mary-Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan themselves. Or how you infamously know them as Snow White and her Prince Charming; the exact people _fortunate_ to bypass the tragedies we've overcome together. These same people that declare themselves _heroes_ and are honorary in the white ethereal light," was said with spite in his tone.

Straightaway all the lights flicker off submerging everything into pure darkness. Seconds barely ticked before one annoyingly buzzing light spotlighted on the valiant couple with a restrained Kai. The shock on the couples faces easily slips right on as they feel the chopped shift in the air the whole crowd is expressing. Not knowing the actual look on these peoples faces but instead the masks doing all the expressing was enough fear inducing to do it for the two.

In addition to this surreal scene happening, another light shines down on the stage displaying the Venetian masked leader and a glamour charmed Killian who's equally astonish to hear of the news, and witness his parents-in-law being here at this meeting _no one_ is supposed to get into other than these judging sea of masks. His anxiety level have just reached a new maximum.

"Frankly, I'm honored to be in company of the town's most illustrious royal rulers. But truthfully, I'm disappointed you've been here the **_whole_** time not once stating your presence."

The crowd breaks in an assortment of gasps and angry mutters.

"Oh yes…!," adds Pride. "They've been _quite_ naughty bringing in guns and knives ready to _literally_ back stab us all unexpectedly. Talk about deceit from our own Mayor and deputy, mm."

"No, we wouldn't…—" Snow shakes but is caught from the out of the blue chilled air hitting her face, David's too.

Even more excitement is blown through the crowd from the unveiled disguises the Charmings were just sporting. Now with their faces naked and exposed it felt entirely wrong to be here.

"This is why we are here…," the Venetian boasts with the light perfectly shone on him with his pressed and fitted suit and cane glued to his hand. "Vigilantes among us committing espionage because they don't deem us right in society and believe we are inferior out of them all—the **untouchables** is what they see us as. And do you know what royals do to the untouchables…?"

Everyone shakes their heads whispering their uncertainty. Even Killian furrow his brows for a sec.

The Venetian peruses the crowd a dramatic sec feeling the yearning for his answer of which he says in a repellent way. " _Purge them_." A pause. "Purify their land from the ghastliest muck they've came to see. Aside from an animal's carcass, and witch, we are the next they scrunch their noses at and _burn_."

Hearing this disturbing statement, everyone, and by everyone, honestly _everyone_ , slowly turned their heads like mannequins toward David and Snow who are both now frozen with disbelief and terror of something they would _never_ do.

But that doesn't matter to these concern masks.

[" **The Lightning Strike (What If This Storm Ends?)** " by Snow Patrol]

Straightening his spine with his glossy black cane exhibiting between his hand and giving the stature of a natural born leader, the Venetian, Jafar, comes to an end of his words. "And so now I urge you my fellow brother and sisters, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters of the _lowest_ worker that exhausted themselves just to have a fair living—"

The blue lady, the plain gentleman, and a hush of few others crept from the shadows to the Charmings proximity.

"I urge you to not let these impostors slip between your knowledge, but instead encourage you to let them _feel_ what  injustice is like—"

Everyone began tepid steps toward the couple.

"What ignorance can bring—"

Kai softly pushes them away taking steps of his own to the crowd.

"And a sense of ignominy all within the shadows. Lure them in…, and let us _assail them with our sins._ "

Both lights go out.

" _Charming_ …," Snow whimpers holding for dear life on her husband's arm not knowing where they are but can still feel eyes on them.

"Listen to me," Kai whispers almost in a mute tone. "When the lights are behind you, _run_."

"We are not—" David admonishes but's clipped from a singing light behind him showing everyone ready to assail.

" ** _RUN!_** " Is the only command said from Kai before he tackles the first person lunging at them with everyone else following.

Cringing from the absolute white light behind them displaying a hall for their exit, Snow and Charming sprint for their lives toward the black door with a rush of people behind them yelling out profanities. But the only yelling pitching in both their ears are their beating hearts and wavering voices to keep going and not to look back. Because if they look back—

"David watch out!" Zip flies the knife right by David followed by disappearing. He touches his ear and sees a bit of blood but continues on. Behind them is the blue lady and a few others gaining speed on their heels.

"Just keep going Snow, just keep— ** _agh!_** " He trips from the knife in his ankle—wait, no, not knife, but _claw_. A putrid black claw entangled on his ankle that's from a shadow, shit.

Snow screeched on her steps and turns back to help him out, and is alarmed on how far behind the others actually are. " _C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!_ " She chants pulling him up. The shadow puts in a good fight but is defeated when Snow stomps on it and harshly pulls David. When they're both standing again is when they both notice the sudden disappearance of the masked people, but straightaway targets the hall gradually being spiraled in darkness reaching toward them.

"Go, go, go!" David urges to Snow resuming their quick pace to get to the door, 'supposedly' their exit. "Just keep going, just go!"

Every single surface touched by light behind them was being licked by the color of death itself and was heading steadfast reaching to the couple. Just like the forest, there were hyena laughs and shrieks lucidly echoing in the hall adding to the shrill terror overwhelming Snow and David. It all felt surreal, everything was too dreamlike yet nightmarish. Why can't they just wake up?

"Daivd, I—" This time Snow falls to her knees feeling the familiar far throb pulsing in her leg she earlier felt in the forest. " _David?!_ "

"Snow, don't worry. Just—" he turns saying to his wife but also succumbs to the feeble feeling he experienced earlier as well. This time instead of arms dragging him down, it was the keen sensation of a needle in his head again, only this time more potent.

The lurid darkness was gaining fast, they needed to move now.

"Just hold on Snow _,_ just— _agh!_ " He presses the heel of his palm to his head. "Just hold on, I got you." He wraps his arms around where her bosom is and drags her like she did to him earlier. Teeth are clenched for both from the pain and the dawning realization they might not make it.

More taunting laughs and shrieks with the added sound of crows cawing echoed loudly in the corridor, traveling closer to the fleeing couple. Faint words in the background were saying how they're not welcomed here with whispers of _'novus ordo seclorum'_ in their ears.

"Charming just let me go."

"Til' death do us part Snow! Just hold on!" They were finally approaching closer to the door, just a few more steps.

"Charming—"

"Stop! We're almost there, just… a little…," no, no, no! He's starting to sink, no! " _ **C'mon‼**_ " They're so close.

"Honey, I love you." She's becoming lagged now, her body is shutting down.

"NO! _I can… do this!_ " He only has her arm now and— "Yes!" At the door now he turns the knob.

Turn—

 _Turn—_

 _ **Turn!**_ "Snow—"

"David, it's ok. Just stop."

He looks down to his wife and the darkness seconds away touching them as his mind's on fire and body shutting down. Yet, he has a family to see again and justice to be served, so with that David slams his body against the door using all his might. He feels like a rag-doll and wants to kneel down and die from this feeling but continues—

" ** _Come on!_** "

And continues—

"David stop! Please, honey, just stop."

And continues— "Our daughter needs us! Our whole family does!" The shadows are here now. _Slam the door open, slam it open!_

" _ **STOP!**_ "

"NO! I won—"

White light.

* * *

Head shaky, heart racing, the thick fear that ceased only just with still the feel of darkness looming were evident to both Snow and David as they woken from their nightmare, again. And this time they were on a park bench, back in town, with dripping ice cream cones in their hands.

"What… what just…," she looks around.

"I… don't know. Did they get us?"

"You didn't open the door?"

He shook his head. "I passed out… I think. There was white and… _black_ from what I remember."

A troubled look crossed Snow's face. "Charming—"

"Yeah?"

"What just happened?"

"What do you mean? We were just—"

"No, no, no, no!" She grabs his arm thinking hard. "David I can't remember…," words are becoming difficult to form, " _something._ "

"Well what do you recall?"

"A portal…, terrifying woods, corridors…, and shadows."

"Wait, there is something missing," he thinks hard, "disguises…, _Pride and Hook!_ "

Snow widens her eyes. "That's right, but that wasn't Hook. Remember we… saw him… _up close… ?_ " She tilts her head. "That doesn't sound right."

"No it doesn't." David and her share a look, both knowing there is definitely something amiss. But what?

"We… need to get _home_ …," Snow says the last like an alien. "We need to process this."

David nods and they both stand and absently make their way back to the loft stuck in their own thoughts of the whole day. However, from the color of the sky, it looks that no time has passed since their venture, regardless they've been gone almost the whole day. Everything to them seems… _false_ now. They're questioning everyone they're passing currently, and not with the most welcoming of faces. Anyone of these townies could own a disguise and could've been at that conspiracy meeting. Anyone could be—

" ** _Oof!_** —oh, sorry Mr. Nolan!"

"Oh, that's… that's alright Jay, honestly."

"No, no. It's my fault, I could buy you a new one."

"Nah it's fine," David smiles.

"Well um, ok. Though where's the place to buy them at?" she points at the ice cream on the ground.

"That street up ahead," Snow supplies. "Though, just be aware of there. There use to be a villain running it."

"Haven't seen any of those running around lately, huh?" she breaks.

"No," Snow shakes. "It's been a while. You want us to walk you over?"

"Uh no, it's cool. I was just heading toward Hershey's."

"You mean Henry?"

Jay nods.

"Well that's a cute name," Snow smiles. "I guess we'll see you around—if he decides to come over?"

"Yeah, yeah." This interaction is awkward now than before, Jay thinks. "So, uh…, I'll see you two later…?"

The Charmings nod their heads warming a smile, and then depart from the other their separate ways.

Though…, they both individually take a glance back feeling something off they just experienced there. Yet, they can't put their fingers on it…. What could it be?


	19. Chapter 19

_In this unbelievable universe in which we live, there are no absolutes. Even parallel lines, reaching into infinity, meet somewhere yonder._ _~Pearl S. Buck_

⇐•⇒

The wind subtly breezing against their backs, the air containing a precise bite to rush an exhilarating jolt through veins, the sun as always a contrasting burning star—close enough to feel the tingles of warmth radiating, of course with a layers of clouds easily sweeping by—and the more than welcoming shared space between the two youngsters was enough of an insignificant, but spontaneous moment to lock away as a memory to cherish later in life. Details to days like these were astonishingly and easily reminiscent, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Henry looks over to his thoughtful and eccentric friend who's preoccupied with their own whirling thoughts.

Just another afternoon day being released from school, with the ambiance shadowing nothing but peace—lulling in fact. Along with their droll shared steps on the pavement as they detour their way to the library gave an honest rhythm itself with a calm and smooth song playing in their shared space. Henry couldn't help but just indulge the thought on a hopefully bright future ahead for himself. If he could befriend a pretty, smart girl like Jay, and not get into any straining strife with his mother, or Killian, then there must be a good future ahead of him without the constant loathing. There must be someone watching over him—it has to be Regina. It just has to be.

He peers up at the floating clouds.

In her fashion sweats, new shoes she probably stolen, the too big jacket that befits her, and backpack slung over her shoulder, Jay keeps quiet thinking of many things. She constantly ponders about her friend's grandparents from that exciting and surprising venture a week or two ago. With the questions revolving, and always coming around to: how did they even get in, what exactly did they find out, and do they know anything about her?

She looks over to her oblivious and charismatic friend who's preoccupied with their own bliss thoughts.

Everything has been going surprisingly well with tidbit bumps, but overall well. Clearly it's evident from off the bat that her and Henry were going to get along—only because it was her task. Originally she assumed she was going to hate him and his mother. But no more than a week hanging with him and gradually getting to know him, Jay became hooked. She just couldn't see herself without this boy in her life. He was something she never experienced before, moreover, someone she truly liked—other than her blended and intriguing family. Even then, though they were exasperating and dysfunctional, she fitted perfectly in. Yet with Henry being her first real friend, she never felt this synced with a person than she does now—she hopes. And that's what scares her most. She is beginning to unravel this type of daunting knot called 'emotion' that she long ago bolted for her necessary preservation. People, or more notably, _monsters_ , like her don't have feelings. They don't wait around the corner to stroll to school with a 'friend' or anyone like Henry for that matter. They don't begin to also care for that "friend's" closest family and help them escape from live shadows; nor do they consistently question about the "friend's" mother's welfare, and repetitively self-debate if they should casually call and ask how that person's doing. Furthermore, monsters like her don't question their orders and begin thinking against it. They just don't—they can't.

Both look to each other concurrently.

"Are you—"

"We should—"

Exchanging their dull pace to a stop, they stare and review the other, indicating that person should have first go. Jay lost.

"It's stupid."

"Just say it."

"You're not going to like it."

"I like _you_ , so just—"

"We should runaway together."

"…"

"See? Stupid." She tugs at her bag's straps and forces a new pace while keeping her head low.

"Wait…, what—no!" he hurries and catches up to her. "No, just… what made you think that?"

Still keeping her head low and voice mute, Jay just quickens her pace feeling embarrassment flood within her. _It's stupid_ _… just stupid_ ….

" _Jay_ ," Henry grabs her arm—

" _Don't touch me!_ " she cries and winces back freeing herself. Henry puts up his arms signaling he'll relinquish, but rounds her walking backwards.

"Come on, please tell me."

"It's stupid—I'm stupid."

Henry stops altogether causing Jay to bump into him, and moves her aside from a car passing, though that was partial reason to stop. "Listen, there can't be two negatives between us, or we won't be able to balance each other out. So _please_ ," he tries to catch her gaze, "tell me why the thought occurred to you for us to runaway. I'm not bashing on it or anything, I honestly just want to know why, so please?"

A sigh emits; why couldn't she just hate him? "…I don't know…," she shrugs, biting her cheek. "I'm of age with you following… and I just thought… why not?" She espies at him then resumes the droll pace.

" _Sooo…_ how would you get the money?" he muses.

"I know a guy."

"Who?"

" **Death**."

" _Death_ gives out loans?"

"Death does a lot of stuff."

"Wait, which death? Thanatos or actual death and repercussions…?"

"I guess insurance money is handy too."

"And she's back!" he smirks. "And if I decide not to join?"

"Then I'll kidnap you. Simple as that."

"Okay, yeah. And I'll go kill Hook." He walks backwards again, only this time in joy.

"Emma did say you were a wise-ass—to paraphrase."

 _"To water down."_ A scowl glimmers on his face for a sec. "Even so, where'd you take me?"

She locks eyes on him. "You do trust me…, right?"

"With all my heart and forevermore," he gestures.

"Yeah, okay sap. Seriously though, _do you?_ " She covers a little cringe within her by tugging her bag. Last she needs to hear is that he doesn't trust her. That would crumble the plan, and herself; both devastating in their entitled rights.

Henry reduces his steps—causing Jay to nervously and, again, subtly flinch—and takes out his phone. "Now… I don't usually do these since there's no reason to. I mean, I use to before Mom died and things went… _bad_ , but to—in some knightly way—show you my trust, let's take a selfie." He puts the phone up and snaps pics of them doing an array of faces and such.

Jay squirms. "I feel dirty."

"Yep, that's how it feels the first few times."

"And how does this show trust exactly…?"

A few seconds pass before he answers, looking up from his phone. "I just sent my whole family some pics of us, even Hook."

Her mouth gapes. " _No_ _…_ "

"Yep, they're about to be weirded out seeing my old self. Not to mention I'll probably be interrogated, so does that answer your question?" He digs his hands in his pockets and starts walking again with smugness.

"In a odd, sweet way, it does." She catches up.

"So now you have to answer my question… where would you take me?"

"Right here."

"Gross," he swats her arm, smiling. "But for real?"

She shrugs, "Vermont? Nice this time of year I heard."

"From where?"

"Dunno—the news?"

"Well, I want to be far from here if you're taking me against my will."

"Yeah—no, we can go to a whole new world. Like Agrabah or…"

"Or…?"

She looks at him and does _the_ face, _"Didney Worl!"_

Erupting giggles burst from the two as they futilely try to catch their breaths—only then to snort randomly, igniting another fit. They let the mirthful air between them settle again with peace thriving; moreover, a commodity Henry is grateful to have in times like these with Jay. It's odd, he thinks, how quick their friendship happened without the hostility he'd venom to anyone ten feet near him. Though with Jay (he sneaks a glance), everything was vibrant and safe and sound. No lies or secrets or anything alike giving the illusion of faux-pas allured to him with this godsend.

Alright, maybe not specifically _that_ , he reprimands, not trying to sound excessive, but honestly he is secretly humbled and joyous someone like her would like—never mind, _take interest_ —in someone like him. One could say he was the spiteful, ungrateful teenage boy next door that trudged along everywhere in the days becoming blurs, ignorantly protected in the luminous bubble of hostility and isolation, never popping and that would only result in the fall. Further, the long and spiraling fall manifesting beneath his feet, readying to swallow him up and digest him in gaseous fumes and hissing acid of what is the dark parts of himself that shouldn't get chance to emerge. Because when something that foul emerges with grace—the negativity, loneliness, dubiousness, all being grasped by a tar black hand, letting these feelings seep through its pores to sweetly hum in its veins—only rears its ugly head with the eyes of saints closing, and the heads of sinners casting.

"Now _you're_ acting weird—everything alright?" Jay interjects, halting the other's bordering decaying thoughts.

Henry's head swerves her way and sees a concerning look taking her features. He softly displays a smile and bumps his shoulder with hers, making her chuckle.

"You're so weird," she says to him looking away.

"Weird is good."

"Yeah… yeah it is," she peeks at him but is caught, now brilliantly radiating a smile then trying to hide it.

His heart lightly flutters with cheeks starting to turn taut and rosy from strongly smiling himself. He never smiled so much in such a long time… he misses it.

Jay uses the back of her hand trying to hide her Cheshire grin. "Okay Henry, you gotta stop, cos if you keep smiling then I will too." Eyes avert somewhere else for a second as she attempts to melt the positive emotion off her face. Returning her semi-straight face to him, she— " _Stop!_ You keep doing it!" a hand clasps over her mouth from a bubbly giggle.

"I can't!" He foolishly grins himself feeling a swarm of positivity flourish in him from this crimeful act. Is this happiness he's feeling? Because if it is… it's mesmerizing and a bit scary, but warming.

"Well you have to," she takes a few steps away from him feeling something stir in her; something that circuits life threefold within. She's never been… 'happy' before really. And if she has, not like this. It's… a bit overwhelming, but nice. "This isn't cool Henry," she rubs her cheeks to lose the smile that's retaliating back, making it harder to drop.

"Coming from a hothead like you, I doubt it is." He hurries and avoids a swat aimed at him for the jab.

"Get back here so I can get your ass!"

"Ooh!" he taunts, "first it's wanting to kidnap me and take me right on the spot, now it's wanting to grasp my buttocks!" He avoids another swat, laughing. "Make up your mind Jay Bexton!"

"Oh, I definitely did Hershey. Your ass is grass, and I'm about to mow it, right here and right now."

" _Inn-u-endo!_ She wants me so _badly_!" he rounds her, causing her to lose footing.

"Who the hell cries out that?!" she laughs with disbelief.

"Well, anyone who wants this fine piece of chocolate, that's who." He wiggles his fingers at his body with a smarm look taking over. "You know you want it."

"You know I don't."

"It's temptation at its finest."

"Which is never."

"Say what you want," he stalks near her, "but just know that this _booty_ -parlor is closed until further _notice._ "

She amusingly snorts. "Which it'll never be with how bland it is."

"Are you sure it was me Emma was referring to with the smart mouth?" he resumes walking with a glow smirk and a pep in his step.

"Please, she was only saying that from your ingeniousness showing through your words. It's hard only staying a brainiac on the math floor."

"Well, I am exponential with the power to be infinite, so."

"Bro, get rational."

"Imagining are we?"

"Only if _I_ can't help it."

"Oh my gosh!—we are totally nerds."

Jay reaches in her pocket and shakes a small box. "I don't think we can be that since they're all gone," she peeks into the box with a serious face, then hands it to Henry.

"You ate them all?"

"No, Seven did; skank always hungry."

"Crap… what are we going to do now? What about the others?"

"I dunno, they're all gone with only Six and below living."

"No," he frowns shaking his head. "Last I remember, they're all dead."

"Damn…, like this segment. Aw, well I had fun."

"Yeah, it was _puntastic!"_ He winced and giggled from the smack he received.

"You broke the rule, you're not supposed to say that!"

Henry bites his smile and reviews their surroundings making sure all is clear. Then he whispers in his friend's ear—causing her to internally shiver—and softly says the banned word. " _Voldemort._ "

"Ah, fuck— _damn you!_ " She again swats him as he skips back with his hands in his pocket beaming a natural smile.

"Live up your life from now on Jay, cos in no time we'll sure be damned from that uttered name."

"You're a douche, y'know that?"

"Begs to differ with different company. But when I'm with you, I can be anything I want, so thanks." He splayed his hand to his chest showcasing his trademark Swan-Mills smile. This was too much, the positivity popping in the air was too much for the both, yet, they loved it.

Jay swoops a strand of her hair away with a warm expression. "So you're basically thanking me for your douchiness? Nice."

The younger brunette slows his pace and looks down, his hair curtaining, not believing how easily it has come to say this. "Yeah, I guess. But overall though," he locks his attention on her, "I'm thanking you for being my _friend_. You don't know how much I needed that, especially now." Swallowing, he awaits her response.

Jay keeps her head bowed thinking of nothing. Literally, vacant space is in her mind. This boy keeps gradually opening himself up and trusting her where they have more than likely come to the point of their friendship where it's irreversible; if one's hurt, then so will be the other. She's gone too deep; she has ditched the shallow water and is now slowly submerging into the dark trenches. There's no more splashing and flailing arms to call for help, there's no more buoying only then to signal her distressed flare in the air. It's done, she can feel it. She's in the deep end now with the unknown creatures (emotions) that will innocuously brush against her then to snap and snatch on her, flooding in her, and feeding off her. She needs this boy.

 _I need her, please have her say something. Is she ignoring me? No, wait!_ — _d_ _id she even hear me? Ohhh, she probably didn't!_ Henry scowls to himself and still waits for his friend's response. _Was it too much? Did I actually make it weird? She's right: I am weird. No one will ever accept me. No one will ever lo_ —

"You know you're my first friend?" she says absently, looking straight ahead—levity now vanishing.

"Um…," he scratches his ear, "is that good or bad?"

"I've had a rough childhood Henry. Been showcased as a freak, monster, and alike for my origins and ancestors. They tell stories of me."

"Who?" he quizzes with a concerned face. Who's calling his friend this? Is it Winter?

"Oafs and imps, that's who. Prejudice and discrimination is what they study, breathe, and preach; heathens."

He slows his steps, "Uh, who exactly are these 'heathens'?"

"Nobody to your importance, Hershey. I'm just not accepted anywhere I go, and so find refuge in keeping to myself, thus no new friends— _no, no, no_." Her head shakes. "You and Emma are the only people I've only wanted to see and hangout with. _You_ don't know how much I needed that since I was banned from my homeland. So, if anything, I should be giving you thanks for being my friend, so thank you." She nodded forward not eyeing him. This was the closest of sentiment she could display without feeling vulnerable, but still modest and sincere. To add extra truth to her words she casually lets their shoulders bump and brush for the rest of the walk. Personal space was vital to her, and here she is bending that rule for him.

" _Wow…._ " He regards her for a stretching sec. "I…I don't know what to say."

"Yeah, well," she too glances at him. "Neither do I; I'm not one for _heart-to-heart_ _chats_ , so."

"Yeah, no—I totally understand." Reluctantly he scratches his hair. "I just…don't get to hear the personal side of you much."

Keeping quiet a few more steps, Jay then breaks the air again. "You seem to be fine with me mentioning Emma also being my friend." Her face is still straightforward.

Henry slowly nods keeping his face bowed. "Right, well… Emma needs one just as bad as me, I guess."

"You guess or you know?"

"I um—I know. She's uh… she hasn't been herself after Mom's death, which is y'know, her normal behavior now. But uh," he licks his suddenly dry lips, and notes he'll need to buy chap-stick later, "she… _needs_ you just as much as I do. I think we'd both crumble if… if you were gone." He wallows in his coat further. The year is coming to a close and it still has yet to snow—for real, when is it coming?

"I'm not always going to be around H. I can't be both your… _safety blankets_ …."

"No, I understand. It's just—"

"Hm? Just what?"

"It's just…," sighs he, "my other mother's death anniversary wasn't that long back when you appeared in our lives. It was hard, you know, to keep going on in life—in this town she created—and not become… I don't know, depressed? Reclusive and bitter? It was just… _really_ hard for me during that time."

"And Emma."

"And Emma," he affirms, nodding. "And then with me getting jump—which, okay, I can see since it's something I was somewhat expecting—"

"It was?" Jay scrunches her brows and forehead, reviewing Henry; her heart coughs.

Said teen faintly scratches below his eye, slightly nodding. "It's just something natural you feel when you're always being bullied; the fear factor being they'll get you off school premises, out of nowhere."

"Oh."

"Yeah, that's all that could be said, **_if_** it were a normal jump, but it wasn't."

Jay shakes her head, for numerous reasons that is. "No…no, it wasn't."

"Instead it was some weird psychedelic crap that the sicko obviously got off from. It's like he planned it, y'know?"

 _DOOM…doom…DOOM…doom_ was the drumming of her heart thudding against her breastbone. Lifting her face toward the far, bright sun, and comparing the beaming rays as an interrogative spotlight, Jay coolly says the next with mild curiosity to appeal her friend, keeping it casual. "Heh, what makes you think that? That he planned it?"

"Pft! What doesn't give off that he didn't plan it? He hunted me," he ticks his fingers off, "and secluded me to a remote place—the freakin' warehouse out of all places! Jay, do you know how unsafe that is? I could've caught an infection—"

"You don't know that," she soured.

"Uh, yeah I do. You know why? Because the bastard pulped me with a crowbar and caused my hands to get scraped that could've gotten the infections from the concrete _and_ the crowbar. A _crowbar_ Jay—an effin' _crowbar_ —who the hell is that cruel? And what? Because this tragic a-hole got offended that I made him trip and slam his head on a crate? Oh!—you don't know how priceless that was, I _hope_ he had an ugly gash and it scarred badly, because that was freakin' unfair! He didn't even give me time to defend myself or anything! That's exactly why he and his friends are little bitches like I said."

"…"

"I mean, if—if he's really a man or a decent dude, _at least_ , he should've given me a chance to defend myself; but instead he let me get whooped like a loser who can't do _crap_ for themselves. You don't know how small that makes me feel. I would go on how he deprived me of my manhood and pride, blah, blah, blah, but I'm not Hook. Though, seriously, I wouldn't blame him being dejected and feel 'dishonored' from that; if I was Hook, I would've went all hell on his butt swishing my hook until a damn eyeball popped out. And what the hell was with the other two?! Th-th-they didn't even look _real_ ; they were shadows with _masks!_ My question is why was everyone fucking wearing really _detailed masks?!_ You can't tell me that ain't fucked up!" His movement was very animate from this heart-felt rant. "What the hell was that—cirque du soleil? Cos if I'm not mistaken, those bastards are  freaks—" _Ouch_ , "the douche jumpers that is, not the actual circus that… y'know," he awkwardly motions his hand, "that gives us entertainment and nice experiences." He glances to her, noticing no change of face. "Not to mention the way he holds himself a-and _talks_ … his character altogether really! _'I hope your done playing hide-n-seek. Or was it peekaboo?/ Woo wee! I think a lesson should be taught!'_

"Ooh!—no wait," Henry grabs his friend's shoulder thinking the excruciating next. "Here's the one you'll rage at: so I called him and his minions out, right?—and y'know what he replied with? _'Ah, I see you get your tongue from that mentally challenged bitch,'_ and then he freakin' _bounces_ on his feet—y'know, the way you do—but **_ugh!_** Can you believe he said that about Emma?! I just—I just can't!

"I bet he's the one that almost killed her," he scorns. "Just think about it: douche-face hunts, secludes, and beats me down where there are barely any people, ok? It's perfect the way he did it too, with a bunch of others at first to make me feel overwhelmed and probably feel that I can't outrun them all, then to have them all gone as the wind when I'm alone it a boxed [pun] room. Perfect, right? So, he gets his little _'erectile_ _dysfunction'_ problem pumping from this adrenaline and unlawful act he's doing—cos I think I heard or read from somewhere people getting off from doing things they aren't supposed to do; it's like a thrill or something to them I guess—and… where was I heading with this?"

"…"

"Right!—his Viagra problem. He gets that working from mercilessly beating me, right, and then for some weird reason I can't wholly remember, drags me into the bathroom I never remember walking up to and freakin' dials Emma, and is all cryptic and shit with the warehouse number and position of it—seaside I think he said. So then he stares at me after hanging up for some long creepy seconds, before—and this is where it freaks me out—before, _as with care_, like!—" he scrunches up his face from connecting a trait like that with his jumper, "and tells me, and I quote: '…'"

"…?"

"Exactly! Like, what the hell do you mean, '…'? Creepy mtf I tell you. So there he is, crouched beside me holding the phone he earlier flopped on me, holding it for me as I talk to Emma and tell her what just happened. I couldn't tell her the creep was right next to me without expected consequences y'know? I couldn't tell her anything further cos I was scared out of my mind from this dude, so he hanged up and just _left_ ; but not without a punch, knocking me back to unconsciousness, which I mind you, that whole gore mask on me; he didn't even flinch or say anything about it.

And so… and so I wake up not long after getting up and looking at my reflection. Just the whole aspect of the day I guess caught up with me and…," he solemnly shook his head. "It just ignited something in me blaming Emma, cos… I guess it's easy to do that now—blame someone than myself. But, yeah… I just went gung-ho I guess, injuring my hands from hating everyone, myself…, my family…, _Hook_. But I guess overall Emma." He whispers the last, "…no one can really feel my pain…."

"Emma does," strangles out a taut, constricted tone of voice from Jay as she still stares forward and hurriedly touches his shoulder, not to comfort him, but cover the intense shaking it's vibrating currently from that skin shivering and bone rattling anecdote, rant, and analyses she just heard; though…, the last part didn't make sense. "Emma feels your pain Henry. She's viewed with skepticism just as much as you from everyone, with probably overbearing feelings drowning her from her responsibility on you and everyone else." _I need a smoke._ "And what was your theory on… this guy you… _accuse_ of Emma's case, again?" _So many shots he fired at me._

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I keep digressing, guess I'm not really over that day, huh?"

She squeezed his shoulder tighter, for her sake. "You're entitled to feel like that…. Maybe you could gain closure by revisiting the scene it happened at and closing that… _dreadful_ moment you experienced to move on. That's… that's a really… important factor." Her voice is nothing but distant; just like how she is in the vast waters having the waves lap over her, hushing the familiarity of herself.

"Are you alright?" Henry tilts his head worrying at his friend's sudden mood. Eyes are glazed and her face appears to be somewhere else, yet her body seems to be here by him, still grasping his shoulder occasionally squeezing—he appreciates the comfort. "Jay?"

"You… _trust_ _me_ , right?" _That word… it feels… traitorous and pretentious? It's wrong, it's all wrong._

Henry perplexes at this before shining a smile, "With all my heart and forevermore."

A _dorky_ smile she sees; a trusting, warm, honest smile that's free and non-judgmental; a smile not del—"You're theory. What's your theory?" _Stop with the thoughts!_

"Oh," he frowns then regains himself. "Nothing high-end. Just I was purposely targeted to lure Emma over so we both be rid of—killed. I guess our royal family isn't as popular anymore. I mean, what's more destructive: taking out the two current rulers, Grams and Gramps, or the two heirs that would further their reign? I don't know, it just made sense in a political way since this town is restless for power one way or another."

"Makes sense," she easily concedes, only because it's not true. "People will go to great lengths just to obtain power and of course, stupidly, use it and fuck it up."

"And back again she is folks! You gotta stop zoning out on me like that, you have me worry."

"Yeah, sorry. Just need a lift me up I guess, haven't ate today."

"We're literally close to the library, we can make another detour and head for the diner if you want?"

"Yeah, I'll just do it myself. You can get us settled in the library. Um, speaking of which, just like five seconds ago, how are your grandparents doing?"

"Same old really," he ignorantly shrugs. "Though they do seem to be more on their toes from last I saw. They even questioned if I spoke to anyone that seemed suspicious of anything. I told them no, which then they asked if you had a brother. Weird, right?"

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. "Weird is good." Wrong.

"That's the spirit!" he nudged her, giving a tight smile, quickly noting she didn't answer the question. Just a few yards away was the town-clock, sentinel of the library. "So."

"Mm?"

"Willing to tell me what's that superpower you have?" They were approaching the library's doors now, faintly hearing Belle's sweet voice.

"What superpower?"

He opens the door. "Y'know, the one you were going to tell me back when you helped with the move."

"Curiouser and curiouser aren't you?" She drops her bag setting her stuff up for their study session.

 _"I know,"_ he moaned dramatically dropping some books, "it killed the cat; but I really wanna know."

"Please…, that grinning pussy-fucka never dies," she irritably sighs, and ignores Henry's bafflement. "I have the power… to detect bullshit."

" _ **Zonk!**_ Sorry, taken; that's Emma's. Try again."

 _Emma has a bull alarm? Well, it really must be if I'm still here…_ Her phone starts buzzing signaling a call. "Right… anything you want from the diner? My treat."

* * *

"Excuse me, but have you seen this man?"

"Mmm… no. ( _shakes head_ ) Sorry."

"Thanks, please have a…," she waves her hand indicating her meaningful words, "day." _Someone must know this damn man, someone must—_ "Oh, hey!" She slides up to the stranger. "How are you doing ma'am, can you please tell me if you recognize this man?" She swipes to a decent, but disoriented picture of the man in question.

"No…, what's his name?"

"Uh, Lawrence—Lawrence Doe. Name rings a bell?"

"Sorry, no; it doesn't. I'm sorry Sheriff."

"Yeah, that's… that's alright, carry on," she nods, and continues walking. _Shit! Where is someone I can get an answer from? God?_

…

 _Nope, He ain't answering… like usual with my screwed life. Why can't I just_ —"Oh hey you! Y-you right there! Yeah you!"

 _"Me?"_ The person points to themselves with the cliché look both ways vacant expression. Only then they start awkwardly backing away in a state of timid confusion.

"No, don't walk away! You know what, I'll come to you. Just stay— _stay_." Emma crosses the mediocre street to the baffled citizen, who's sweating if they're in trouble. "Hiya, have you ever seen this man? Name's Lawrence Doe, works at a farm up town and just—have you seen him?" A tinge of desperation trails at the end.

"Uh, can't say I do," the man squints at the sheriff's dim screen wrapping his dog's leash around his hands. How Emma didn't see that or the dog first, she won't know. "…What he do?"

"We believe he was part of Henry Mills' unfortunate jump 3 months ago."

"Oh, right. The one over by the warehouse?" he asks to which she nods. "I can't really tell you anything pertaining to that sad day… a-are you okay? I mean your recovery—or I-I-I guess _both_ your recoveries?" Again he twists the leash with his silent dog sitting by; well-trained, thinks Emma.

"Thank you for asking, yes, my son and I are both fine. But any info regarding this case you can supply would be better."

"Um, I uh did see something not long back of this fresh looking man about your height and—and uh brown with a fine built frame like Deputy Nolan. It was not long back but still after your um…," he bounces his eyes to her and quickly back to the phone, " your uh, accident. It's just I never seen him before, so maybe a newcomer?"

Swan puts her phone away, slightly tilting her head like her mother. "There's plenty people in town, some we probably never met that lived here since the curses, you're positive it might be a 'newcomer'?"

"I uh, well I—" he looks away twisting his hands more and more with his dog starting to whimper, feeling the discomfort in the air. "I didn't uh, I didn't mean it in any immoral way if that's what you're implying."

"No, just what makes you think he's 'new'?"

"Uh, well the night I saw him he was walking to wherever and um, well he was avoiding anyone his way. And y'know… I could… _relate_ in some way cos I'm not a-a people person per se," he kept wringing his hands with lacked eye-contact. "But the way he was avoiding anyone near him wasn't t-timid like me, but it, uh… it was more of… of reserve and superiority? It—it was just opposite of someone like me afraid of um… socializing."

 _ **Okay…,** I'll tell you the jumper's name since I know him. Tall fella, about mocha, and finely built. His name is— _ "Thank you very much for this info, it helps. Please have a nice day, and feel free to contact me if anything else raises you know of." She genuinely smiles and nods to him, as him thinly to her, and departs their ways.

So again she receives the same description describing Henry's attacker. And because it's from a different person altogether, it makes what Lawrence prior said all the more credible. _Oh my gosh why is this taking so long?!_ She plops down in a seat in front of the diner—granted, it's becoming hella cold; but a little torture taking face of bitter weather is something she can tolerate. Admittedly, it shouldn't take so long just to find her son's suspects—no, screw that! _Realistically_ it shouldn't take her so long to find her _son's suspects!_

" _Agh!_ " Throwing her head into her arms on the rickety table that'll soon have its own story to tell, Emma petulantly blows an irritated and distraught sigh—faintly feeling the heated moisture of it reacting to the compact space her arms offer—and lets her thoughts slip. That feeling when you just can't think of anything else without combusting, and so feel this airy, light yet unfocused sort of wave floating over yon, as if your stress if rippling away becoming embodied in its own cloud, patiently awaiting to become the storm you'll need—the storm you'll become.

The only sense keeping cognizance are her ears, with the other senses muffled and preoccupied to the sheriff's pity, giving vibrant life and color to the dismissed sounds the world without fault offers. The racket of the diner, the bell's tuning chimes of someone opening or entering, the faraway yet close chatter others are carelessly babbling on about (how much she wishes she can do that—have such innocence), and the lively sound of nature crooning was such a relaxing veil that she honestly began to doze off and let these strumming sounds become her musical piece to find balance in. Let the chimes sing, let the wind howl, let the…

"I don't think I can do that … Well it's—… It's not fair to her … Yeah, but—"

Emma scrunches her hidden face discerning if that is Jay she's hearing, and if so, who's she speaking to?

In a whisking second the young woman's tone becomes dejected, admitting defeat; how odd that sounds coming from someone like her. "Yeah, ok… Mhmm, I'll be there later tonight …Yeah, you too, bye."

Springing up like a daisy in sunshine with her golden hair giving testimony to that simile, Emma offers a welcoming smile at her and Henry's friend. "Hey Jay!"

And going wide-eye as if she's seeing her impending death first time, Jay does her mightiest to keep her flinch controlled, and that it wasn't. " _Emmaaaa…._ "

"Scared you didn't I?"

"I didn't even see you there," she holds her frantic chest from the abrupt scare on multiple levels.

"Was that you're father on the phone?"

"More or less. So uh… what's up?" She hesitantly takes a seat across from Swan, showing wavering interest. "What's got you looking all bummy?"

"Well, to start, Henry's case for one."

 _Right back to this now are we?_ "And your suspect was a flop, correct?"

"As floppish as they come… I'm trying to track down the guy to cipher out more information since he's my primary lead, but after the lawyer thing he just disappeared."

"What do you mean by 'more information'? He gave a clue about Henry's jumper?"

"Yeah, believe it or not—though he does seem the sort of person to squeal." She leans back in her seat halfheartedly inspecting Bexton for a moment. "Say… besides your guardian, do you have other family here in close resemblance to you?"

Jay keeps a straight face already inferring where the sheriff's heading. "Only child and no cousins. Why, did this suspect say something of H's jumper similar to my appearance?" The hairs on her neck become currently aware of the cold.

"Sharp as a tack is you—I can see why you and Henry get along."

"And us…?"

Emma shrugs. "You remind me of myself, y'know? Takes me back to the old days."

"To the black and white?"

" _Heyyy_ ," she teasingly warns. "So, I see you have two bags, hanging with Henry?"

"If the answer you're looking for is studying, then yes. Quite the rave that'll be."

"With you two I know it will." She leans forward dropping her linked fingers between her legs, giving a decent pause. "So, how's he doing? Does he seem… good?"

"As good as he can get I guess." Jay shifts in her seat. "You know him better, so you tell me."

"Well…, how do you break down your son's behavior when you practically don't know him anymore?"

"Emma…," the other sympathizes.

"He doesn't really talk to me as much except in therapy, which blows just so you know. Poor Archie trembles around us whenever we're riled up. You think getting out the ugly first would leave a clean slate for the good; instead it just digs a deeper grave of more tragedies gasping than the next. I shouldn't be saying such things to him as him to me, and yet…," her posture deflates and she shrugs, "here we are, same old same old, ripping to tear each other a new one every chance we get. Only improvement is that he's been less a douche to Killian."

"Really?"

"Yep," she smacks. "It was either a Dr. Hopper session with all three of us to resolve issues as a family, or be less hostile to Hook."

Jay squints, thinking this over. "Are you sure? He seems the same toward Hook."

"Yeah, in silence; he basically just took out the words of their relationship and filled it with grunts and contempt looks. Though I can't really complain," she sighs, holding and leaning on her temple, "it's the closest I've gotten to less fights with them in a long time, and maybe it'll evolve into something better later on, y'know? For now I'll take it."

"You sound tired."

" _I **am**_ _tired_. I can't crack this case, people are calling more with speculations and other nonsense like cats… in… _chimneys?_ " She lifts her hand and scrunches her face. "The holidays are super near and so everyone's ten times more annoying, my parents are acting odder than how parents are supposed to be—"

"Hm?"

"You heard right. Suddenly Snow and David, the two most outgoing people I know, are now afraid of outside interaction and are more influenced for walks in the park. That's as much as I can figure between the two without Killian bugging me for… stuff." Sex.

"Ah," clucks Jay, "guys are really hounding this time to figure your present, huh?"

Emma tights a smile, "Right." She wishes it was that. How do you tell your husband the greatest gift you can receive is for him to take a vacation… and never come back?

"Well," loudly exhales the brunette, "if it's any help, Henry is enjoying his time with Mr. B, and I suck at presents, so."

"Your present to me was finding my scarf and jacket, I think your set for a year. And at least Henry is enjoying one of his sessions, key word _'enjoying'_ , cos honestly anything can happen by now; it's all out of my hands." Her head falls back feeling the tidbit of sunshine raying on her pale neck. It'd look even paler if the snow was here.

Jay lets the other woman simmer in her thoughts a bit as she enjoys the last of their interactions. Chapters to plans are beginning to close; relationships need to be clipped, the almost sense of 'home' (how odd she feels at ease in this tiny, droll town) needs to be shaken like an etch-a-sketch and drawn anew, and personas need to be altered or at least tweaked. Hence, a new chapter and expectant series emerges, one that depicts her and Henry, power and freedom, and anything else exciting and thrilling. Jay would say she is pumping with excitement, but really she's still and stiff as a board seeing this other woman across from her keeping herself together by the fewest and thinnest of sinews taut enough without unraveling.

It's amazing, she notes, how much afflictions Emma must have gone through in her life, and is still breathing with a jolt in her step. This woman is an ever day hero, not Savior or something alike, but just an honest inspiration anyone could look up to who's going through the toughest of times. She hums like a hummingbird never fully exhausted from a flight, persists like a wolf not letting the opinions of her pack get to her, and floats carelessly by as a water lily in an ongoing battling stream naturally trying to oppress her. The amount of respect Jay has for this woman surprises herself, yet doesn't. It does, cos well… here she is! Sitting, or lagging, in a rickety chair, still pursuing for her son's jumper Jay compellingly feels to confess to; then it doesn't surprise her because Emma just seems like the person to overcome something so difficult not even fathomable by some. A prime example being a bullet to the head. Yes, yes she's aware it wasn't the blonde's time to die, but trying at suicide then to (expectantly) fail and keep her head up like none of that happened but keep all eyes and ears for everything else is such awe inspiring in its own right that not even Jay could think of doing such a thing—to keep moving forward; moreover, one of the most important facets of life many struggle with.

" _Helloooo,_ earth to Bexton, you there?"

She remember when she was in a similar position… it was terrifying. Everything was so new and dangerous under every umbrella mushroom, over every snoodish daisy, and toward every flapping playing card, especially those, she internally shivers. What a freak show— _ugh!_

"Jay?" Emma shakes said woman.

Although, who is she to say such when she herself is equally a freak too? "Sorry Emma, was stuck in my thoughts."

"I can relate, not much fun brooding on the multitude every sec, huh?" She gazes down at the younger; standing over her. "I was just saying you should probably get going to Henry before he fusses. You and I can talk later, how 'bout tonight? You could join us for dinner."

"Um," Jay stares down feeling her chest constrict. "I can't tonight, have to get caught up on assignments and be at home at a certain time, y'know." Clip the attachments.

"Oh, no it's cool." She said, 'not' dispirited.

"Yeah, just…," the brunette sluggishly stood, not welcoming this sinking feeling, "Just _talk_ to him Emma. It's a matter of time before Henry puts on a façade to cover the pain he's feeling. I'm not one to speak others' words without them present, but…," she teeters on her feet, "he earlier said _'no one feels or understands my pain'_ to paraphrase, so just… I don't know, _get_ to him before it's too late. It would suck to see you and his relationship become shittier than deemed for mother and son. So uh yeah, just…," she again stares down, digging hands in sweat pockets, and scraping the concrete. "Just hurry before it's probably too late. None of us want that, right?"

Swan looks down herself at the other scraping their shoe and gives an equally reluctant response. "…right…." Why does she feel she's heard similar elsewhere back?

"Right…, so I'll um… see ya?"

"Yeah, yeah. See ya." That softly said, Emma watches Jay pick up the diner's bags about to depart, but not before she gives an awkward side-hug to the young-adult, and easily notes how tense the latter is before feeling a light-squeeze back.

Jay crosses over to the library then looking back at a gone blonde, and feels the hollowing her heart is sculpting. _Goodbye Emma Swan._

* * *

 **~UnderBrooke~**

This pain in her heart just won't go away. Every beat stings profoundly than the next every time she's in this dank room. The office's theme of a blizzard forest breathes life to every surface, item, and spot her eyes settle upon, conjuring up the next memory after the next, and all crashing into each other like a spiraling set of dominoes.

Regina Mills was in her office at town hall trying to feel any ounce of normalness ebb into her that would halt the ill of her mind. And the only ill that was flourishing favorably was the splattering grey depression drowning her. How much longer can she go through this? How long until she's relinquished, or finds some solution to this… this… this _paradox_ she is in? She has magic to 'liberate' herself, but then not considering anytime she uses it pain could unveil. Not to mention there's not a proper reason using it without a plan.

"And just what else can I think?"

…

"Hello…?"

…

Considering from the lack of hoity input, the voice that randomly and unwelcomingly gives life to Regina's thoughts must be off today, she sums. Not for one second, though, is she going to indulge the thought that this voice that sounds exactly like her is permanently gone. Something like so that's been around since… since…

" _Dammit!"_ she mutters. Every damn time she tries to think when this voice of hers emerged, there's always a blank canvas in her mind. Usually for most when there's a distant memory they might have trouble forwarding, there would at least be glimpses. But for her there were only the pins of repercussion needling her mind, consequently producing a headache, and sometimes a migraine.

Ticking off another uneventful day during another droll hour, the Queen grabs the nth trench coat she owns, flips her hair back off the collar, and decides to see if there's anything tolerable to eat at the diner. It's half-past whatever, and she just needs to get out of here.

Now walking on the almost deserted streets, Regina gives huffs and puffs of sighs and yawning yawns while she passes by the repeating views of her glamorous afterlife. Since she has been here, or more notably _trapped,_ the only stragglers left here were guttered lost people that had no amends to make with anyone. Regina tried to help them out once she noticed this, but it was hopeless. They lost their minds to time; Father Time gotten to them and made them forgetful on any past life they had used to live. How many are there? she doesn't know. After an uncertain period—and staying confined in her manor or office in town hall mostly—all of them began to look alike. Straggly beard, tattered clothes, and yelling the oddest of things, these cavemen (she refers them to) became the least of her concerns since it didn't help her for Elysium or damnation. However, it would be false to deny that worrying thoughts of herself becoming like them at one point would sporadically surge her mind on some other uneventful day. As a matter of fact, any day she had thoughts like these dealing with exceeding hopelessness and similar were very eventful days—that is, in her mind. Those days usually had that fun other voice that sounded just like her giving darkening ideas like 'harming' herself with the butterknife she was using, or maybe hold her breath longer than usual while taking a bubble bath. Admittedly, she does do the latter often, while counting how long it takes to arrive on the brink of unconsciousness. Because when that certain part of herself is expressing itself, she needs a shut-off immediately, or else more than likely something 'bad' will happen.

Besides those sporadic and teetering decayed thoughts, she's kept herself busy thus far with chess. She can't tell if she's become better at it, or just stayed same, since she has only herself to practice/challenge with.

Again she yawns. Another hobby she's kept up with and recently begun was knitting—or crocheting? One of them requires an abundance of yarn, and that's as far as she gotten in the self-taught book without dozing off. She's making a sweater for Henry and it's coming along _quite_ nicely.

Another yawn. One day she stumbled upon some holiday-themed house decorations in her basement, that was an interesting and eventful day, so.

Books were also keeping her—she yawns—well… not that busy actually. Because she enjoys reading, she swept through the library quicker than she would like to sate her boredom. The current one she was reading actually was a personal favorite, _Robin Hood: Myth and Legend_. It was an interesting read the first few times, but now it is only to lessen the sting of her heart whenever it yearns out for him.

Stopping for another toiling yawn, another eventful time she once had was when she— _Oh he better not._ "No, no. Don't, _don't_ —" a heaping sigh releases from her lips.

What just happened was that a straggler caveman (Dan she calls this one) walked straight _through_ her. " _Dan!_ You can't just do that—you saw me here before I saw you, so _move_ out the way!"

"You were in me way!" he arrogantly said.

"No _you_ were—"

"You were in me way!"

"Oh my…," Regina takes both hands and drearily wipes her face from this irritable apparition. This was the only straggler that went out of its way to literally _walk through_ her and repeat the same phrase whenever she tried to reason. She has no idea why he goes through her, let alone make it his intention, and only comebacks with—

"You were in me way!"

"Yeah, okay. Bye Dan," she tightly smiles, shifting to a grimace. The first few times it happened it frightened her, but after a few months she had gotten used to it and was able to spot it out then to take a different route. It did not change the fact, though, that she would thereon convulse the rest of the day until she stepped into a steaming shower.

Moving on, and yawning, and now arriving at the diner, Regina recalls this other time when—"Why are you _still_ here?"

"Funny, I could say same for you."

Regina drops her head on the diner's countertop with a loud thud and lets out a weary sigh.

"You sound tired."

"I—" yawn, " _ **am.**_ Who knew death could be so _boring_ to the point where it wears you out. Tell me you have _something_ normal and caffeinated on the menu."

"Coffee."

"You know what I mean."

"Coffee."

A flop of a sigh makes notice. "Was Dan here?"

The blind witch slides a brewed cup of coffee Regina's way, and leans in her space a bit. "So, where's your master?"

"Where's your girlfriend?"

"Who?"

 _"Cruella."_ She sips her cooled cup of coffee, and then lets the liquid dribble out her mouth back into the cup. _"_ Oh my gods… _this is really **bad** coffee! What the hell?!"_

"A hint of dragon's breath I put in it for your extra kick," lightly says the witch, faintly scratching her hair. Her face twists. "Who's Cruella?"

"What do you mean? She's been by your side the whole time down here—oh god I need a mint." The brunette's eyes search intently.

The witch blindly reaches where her mints are and hands a succulent one to Regina, who inspects it carefully before continuing.

"Oh yes," starts the witch again, "those truly are my favorite. I save them for whims." She perks a bit from the agreeing sound Regina gives. "There just so delectable with its savory peppermint and bursting sweetness."

"Mmm," nods the Queen, "it is very sweet."

"Well of course it is, I didn't waste a whole day not to baste that doughy child filled with sweets and not acquire some drippings for myself."

And easily rolled out Regina's tongue ridding the mint. " ** _Ugh!_** What the fuck!?"

"Joke dear, joke. It was only a joke." She helpingly pushes the untouched mug toward Regina, who almost with haste chugs it, but then remembers—

 _"Ppppph!"_ She spits. _"_ Y-you horrible witch! _I hope to **hell** Cruella doesn't remember you too!_ _You're as atrocious and forgetful as the other vast of witches out there!"_

"Well that's just mean," the blind witch pouts.

"Ohhh shove it up your candy licking ass," Regina starts grabbing her coat, "next time—" her threat retreats when she hears a familiar and conceiting voice beside her.

Calm some luv, ye're puttin' on a show—not even one I'd pay for.

"Oh my…," she reaches at her temples, and squeezes her eyes shut. _"Why you?!"_

"I dunno, sometimes I ask the same thing in the mirror. But yet again I can't fully see my uh…," the blind witch bends down to a shiny toaster and daintily caresses her face, "reflection." Next she air kisses said reflection.

Ye did call for me did ye not?

"Whoever said I needed you? I don't and never will, so leave."

I'm 'fraid I can't, your Majesty. So make use of me while ye can in my tepid mood.

"I will never make use for you other than to wipe the ground with your brillo pad beard! So leave, _now_."

Lowly sighs the blind witch hearing the Queen's rambling. "That dragon breath… it will get to you."

'Tis too stubborn and daft to see her own stupidity… (he mindfully mutters) Lemme query Her Majesty this: why ye've been avoidin' thoughts of me Swan lately?

Being caught off guard, Regina's face twists. "What?"

"Dragons breath sweetie," tuts the witch in remorse, "it's very trippy and not for most."

Ye once said, or rather _declared_ that ye harbored feelings for Emma—'love' her even. So why the halt of thoughts concerning her? I'm curious.

"Love her? You're more delusional than I thought, because I never once uttered that I love her."

"Yes you did," inserts the witch.

"When?" squints Regina, but then realizes she didn't even say the blonde's name. "Wait, what are you—"

This time a different voice more richer in bass cuts in giving pause to the others. "Gina, I didn't know you were so well of an actress, or else I would've included a proper theatre."

"Another hidden talent from hers truly," chimed the witch.

Too many voices, thinks Regina—voices she doesn't want to be around, especially with this provoking one. "Yes, Lucien?" she says with her eyes shut and head bowed over the counter, as if she's in prayer.

"Now what happened to our delightful greetings? I miss those." He takes a seat beside her.

"Hostility is the only greeting to give when you're patron to torture."

" _Hospitality_ is the greeting to give when you're not being subject to enlightenment."

Regina suppresses her chortle and looks away.

"Here, I got these gifts, or I guess needs, for you." He slides over a steaming mug of caffeine and a napkin hiding an item, to which she only glances at.

"What do you want?" she dismissively glances at him then takes the drink, feeling grateful for it.

"Only your time and attention. I have a proposition."

"And I want a litigation, but we can't always have what we want now can we?" She sips her tea.

"This time you can… if you listen that is." He starts picking at a pastry the witch had set down for him.

"I'm listening."

"Are you?"

"We're conversing aren't we? Or did it come to the point where I'm hallucinating cos of my chronic disease: boredom…?"

" _Are_ you seeing anything yet?"

"I see nothing other than the intensity of the disease now. I feel it's duller than cancer yet with the stage 3 ass-kicking. Your proposition?"

He looks at her, though she focusing straightforward, and reviews the taut neutral expression defining. "Let's take on a quest together."

This time she snorts hysterically and inwardly giggles. "My Stockholm isn't that bad to agree to that Lucie."

Said man pauses for a moment waiting for her to realize her slipup by saying his moniker, but alas nothing. "It's to retrieve a powerful, lost soul and provide guidance to it before—"

"Before what?" she scoffs and looks at him with lifted brows. "Before it ka-booms? Here? Where there's already fire?"

"Something like that, so what'd ya say?"

"I say some more decorations and licking flames could brighten up the place, pun intended." She sips some more tea.

"I don't know Regina," he huffs out, shifting in his seat and erecting his posture, hinting the graveness of the topic. "You're willing for an innocent soul to perish and walk about aimlessly for eternity? That's a new low, even for you."

"Oh, piss off." She leans on the counter and cocks her head reviewing him a bit, and of course notices the stupid bone mask along with everything else adequately nice on him. 'Adequately', because like she said, her Stockholm isn't that alarming. Though if there weren't any mask then maybe, _maybe_ , her 'syndrome' would become a tinge worrying; otherwise, she's fine. Celibacy's fine, and it's honorable, right? "Besides, no soul is innocent. It's all tainted and will eventually rot and will be lost in that river of sticks."

"Stynx"

"I know you do. And also, _you're_ the _lowest_ out of anyone, just ask me—though please don't."

"Huh, well that's news, cos if I recall, it was Leopold that was the cesspool scum, right?"

Hence, was the dank and dire expression to snatch the Queen's face in the night. Expectantly, she would censure the blazes out of that statement for such a vialing, sewer of a name to sound in broad, hazy daylight; but what caught her off again was the fact that Lucien would know such a thing. Aside from herself, and only herself, nobody should have, whatsoever, any recollection of that name nor the condemning acts and deeds saturated with it. "And just what makes him, to quote, 'cesspool scum?'" She dares him to say it.

Aye, that wouldn't bode well your Majesty. Best to keep yer tongue tied.

Right when Lucien is about to answer, Regina harshly whispers _'shut-up',_ causing him to easily drop the response (unaware the command wasn't for him). "Accompanying me on this trip could be your ticket out. I could increase your chances for Elysium."

"I asked about Elysium not long ago, to which you denied with a dumb, vague response of playing my part in this."

"Which is now beginning to surface."

"Which is still unknown to me," she scoffs, annoyed by him already.

He sighs and drops his head a bit. "You'll know when you'll know."

"And what kind of vague bullshit is that? _'You'll know when you'll know,'_ sounds like some amateur cryptic crap that doesn't really want you to know… because **_it_** doesn't know."

"Well I assure you **_it_ **_does_."

"Mm, no. Because _if_ it did, **_it_ ** would've been more direct than—"

"You're wrong, _ **it** does_—"

" _Not_ know, _final_. It is giving false claims of peaceful, perpetual settlement to its ' _patron of enlightenment'_ thinking they're daft enough to follow suit of a redundant idea. Lulu," she tuts, "I didn't know you were such a bad liar, or else I wouldn't have wasted my time."

"…"

Hiding her smug satisfaction behind her mug, Regina signals for the witch to come over. "Yes, this…," she reviews him, "caricature here will pay the bill."

The witch ignores Lucien but bats a smile at the brunette. "What? No goodbye?"

"Unfortunately no, but—," the rest of her words become lagged as she's reduced to a constricted choking sound. Her eyes paddle to the one and only person that has power over her like this; and what she sees is him carelessly writing a 'check' using magic—with a glint of a smirk expressing.

"Excuse me," he pardons from the witch. "Regina, follow me." He stands and leads her to an empty booth.

Back to sitting—and breathing—Regina, with every chance there is, smites a heated glare Lucien's way.

"Anything you want to say?"

"Except that you're a diabolical asshole?—then no, nothing." She has plenty, preferably in actions.

"Quite a mouth you got there. I don't ever remember you this tempered."

"Pardon you, but remember _what_ _?"_

Instead of answering, Lucien just offers Regina a strained, wistful smile that spoke volumes than it should have. "Accept my proposition."

"Is 'no' not an simple answer for you?" she sneers, but really is hiding the crack in her voice from his odd smile and avoidance of the question. "Elysium means nothing to me, so you can—"

"I know."

"shove…," her insult dies. "What did you just say?"

"Elysium is far-fetched, it's only a disappointing delusion compared to something much more grand I can offer you…." Coolly he sweeps his head away.

She lifts a sculpted brow for him to continue.

"I can see it now," he leans in. "I can see what your future beholds right this very moment Regina, and do you know what it is?"

"…?"

" _Home_ ," he said so well put and simple, as if that was the token answer to life and its complexities.

"What do you exactly mean?" Her face is askance with building skepticism.

A flashy grin peeps for a second from him before turning into a sly smirk. "Exactly what the word entails, your Majesty. Your future, Regina, involves you being reunited with the dearest you yearn for. I can send you back home, back to where your heart desires with stinging pain, back to where familiarity is around every corner where you'll feel nothing than overwhelmed from scenes and feelings you've been unfairly detached from. _**I** can send you back  home, where you can be yourself and then some_."

Her face cracks, showing the vulnerability. "To… to StoryBrooke?"

"And then some…," he leans back letting his words resonate.

Stretching a few seconds into a minute, Regina lets the numerous possibilities of this little ray of hope send dispersions of light throughout her brain that is beginning to charge the positivity. Although, she is no fool for yielding into such temptations of hope; so those budding kaleidoscope of thoughts only stay that, buds. "You don't have the power to do that…. I don't have that sort of power."

"Whoever said I was strictly limited to just yours?" He said confidently. "I got a sundry of tricks and skills Regina. I got things I didn't even try. And unlike you, where my powers originated from, there are no rules—my power is _boundless_." He leans in again to root her attention even further. "You experienced it, you know the feeling. And I know there is some part in you that _craves_ for the  vivacity in such a power so _pure_ and _unrestrained_ … something that makes even you, _the Evil Queen_ , feel so rapt and alive in the thriller aspect of it. You know, Regina, I have the power, and if it seals the deal, I also have the network."

 _He… it sounds…_ she can't believe she's thinking this, but he's making a compelling point. It's true, she has no knowledge if he is only restrained to her power to aid him; she doesn't know anything about him really. But yet, from her 'experiences', she does have a set inkling of the atmosphere and strength of his power; it's different, obviously dark, but like he said it's also lively. What power like that, evil, is lively? There's just a revelation whisked in there of its own.

"How do I know you're not setting me up?" Suspicion creeps in now. "How do I know this isn't some grand scheme with nothing good in it for anyone?"

"You don't," he concedes. "There's no denying something could go wrong, but I am a business man first, schemer second. A deal is a deal, and I can make this happen—accept the proposition."

"Network?"

"I knew you would want the details first—smart woman." He flashes a grin from her scowl. "If you accept this once in a lifetime offer—which I might add that you don't have, a life—what's to follow is nothing but a trek through Hell, figuratively and literally, to retrieve this lost soul. I'll lead you a ways in, and from there you're on your own."

 _"What?"_ she sharps. "You just declared you have the power to send me back!"

"And I do, calm down. But there's nothing wrong having other options to lean on in case something goes awry. Either scenario has you leaving here for good. It's a win-win for everyone."

"But you see nothing wrong abandoning me?"

"It's not abandonment, it just helps display your loyalty and nobility for this quest to others. If something does go wrong, then there'd be no problem going with the networks."

"Like who?"

 _"Death."_

"You mean Hades." She deadpans, already feeling foolish for entertaining this conversation.

Lucien shakes his head. "As interchangeable they may seem, they are not. But do believe I know plenty of others that owe me a favor or two before we settle on Papa Death. All you have to do is accept, and then I'll begin making the arrangements."

 _Take the deal. Do not take it. Take the deal. Don't. Take it. …don't. Pro: …. Con: …. Conscience: …._

If she takes the offer, everything will change. She'll be reunited with her family, she'll be alive and kicking again, she'll see Em—mm, _Robin_ again and just everyone she misses dearly, like Lucien said. Her life will be better, she can _make_ her life better,  again, by being alive. _Alive_.

If she denies the offer, nothing will change. She'll be here, stuck, with no rays of hope to silver through the thinnest of slits. She'll miss everyone her heart's yearning for, like Lucien said. Her life will still be non-existent, she will have nobody and will become nothing, from being dead. _Dead_.

Instead, the cycle will repeat itself; she'll be a Queen confined in the replica of her own town, her home, day-by-day. She will continue having looping thoughts of being a fool—battered, bruised, and broken. She will continue having fleeting and dubious thoughts of herself, of her family, on her actions. There will be no other choice, this will be it, this can be the wrong move that costs her the little she is—no, the _everything_ she is. Already the doubt is creeping in… that can't be anymore. She can't have a feeling so ambivalent be her pacifier to help soothe her aching thoughts. Something like that can't become natural. She won't have it—she can't.

She can't fail herself. She _won't_ fail her family.

Her heart will only ache and love drain the longer she's here instead of giving that lip-trembling hello she desperately wants and needs. "I… I can go home?" The innocence escaped from her breathy voice.

"You can go home. You _will_ go home." Slowly he pulls out a napkin from a dispenser and slides it over with a pen. "Sign your name, and you'll be one step closer leaving here _forever_."

 _Forever…._ Denying this, for eternity she will only regret and heavily berate herself for letting this slip between her fingers. Accepting it… opportunity awaits, adventure calls, and chances will present themselves, like now.

 _Death is but the next great adventure…,_ "To lead to life." She absentmindedly says and signs, whispering 'forever' under her breath, enthralled from this beam of hope showing her way.

" _Always,_ pleasure doing business with you, your Majesty. Our quest will begin in a fortnight. Until then, get much rest as possible, you look like you need it."

"Yes, well," she suppresses a yawn, but rubs her eye. "I keep having nightmares, you wouldn't know anything pertaining to such, would you?"

"Nope," he lies, standing. "But I do know you soon won't have to worry about that." He places in front of her the same napkin he earlier tried to offer, and gives a tip of his hat before leaving.

Regina keeps her eyes glued on him until he disappears out her vision. She then baffles at the contents in the napkin, not only cos she needed it, but from its vague familiarity. "Mint leaves…?"

* * *

 _#You were the one thing in my way_  
 _You were the one thing in my way_  
 _You were the one thing in my way_

 _My way, oh way, oh way, oh way_  
 _My way, oh way, oh way, oh way_

 _"My way, oh way, oh way, oh way."_ Walking home with the little pep in his step, Henry lets the day's events so far course through his mind.

 _School, hanging out with Jay, and… yup, that's it._ "My way…"

But what spoke, and still speaks, volumes to him this far in his day was when he was ranting on about his jump to her, and then she telling him it's probably time to indulge in closure. To move on.

Moving on…. He's moved forward on an array of things, which is a characteristic he actually pride's himself on. He's moved on from his mother lying to him about the curse, her evilness and wrongdoing, his post-curse hostility toward her and favorable feelings toward Emma, Emma giving him up for adoption, she not telling her of his father, and etc. If anything, he deems himself as forgiving. Besides moving on, he forgave his mothers for all those actions and omissions and such from the love he has for them. Of course, aside from Emma marrying Barnacle Boy, and giving up trying to save Regina like she did for Hook, all is forgiven; the kid (himself) is all right. Yeah, he has a good dent in him of faded hope with pessimist tendencies, but all good. And yeah, maybe he's filled with some loathing and spiting toward his family and general strangers, with a tendency for seclusion coupling with bitter behavior on-and-off, but he's still decent. Also, well, his disposition toward his mother's husband may also characterize him with expressive feelings that he doesn't approve of their sham marriage, and well, proclaims it's a sham marriage to and behind their faces instead of actually giving thought that they are mutually in love…, but he's still… below average, but not quite down to the bottom where anything goes for show, so….

Perhaps he does need to indulge in some closure—get a fresher perspective on his rusted qualities and bask in their glory again. He is the Truest Believer after all, and the first step to closure is believing in himself, which is (he thinks) a hopeless attempt, but dammit! Optimism courses through the Charming blood, it's practically their personal form of magic. Yet…, (he slows his steps and becomes unaware of the song and his settings) Emma seems to have long lost that sanguine feeling of hope and optimism in her; David became more of a bully than everyone's hero; and his grandmother, Snow, is well… just that, snow. Meaning she's there, and is irritating at times and comforting during others, but overall she's something, or someone, no one wants to head out in, or converse with. You either hate it or love it, and his disposition toward her is… 'meh'.

However, if he does decide to take this humbling and enlightening route that he has lost touch with, then perhaps he can be the one to glue his family back together. Pieces are missing, parts to selves are lost, and thoughts on the future are clouded coming to terms with folly: _'the now is the now, why worry about the (presumed) disappointing future?'_ If he reverts to his old care free and happy self, or evolve into something better than the glassed-eye kid he was, then this will be the charge and catalyst for a better tomorrow. He can make Emma whole again than the zorb she is, he can make his grandfather see the road to virtue once more, and he can cease his grandmother's self-disappointment (it's obvious to him she holds the weight of this family on her shoulders).

And maybe, _just maybe_ , he can tolerate Hook and indulge in this sham marriage Emma is seemingly 'headstrong' on. For Christ's sake, the woman is exhausting herself for his jumper! Clearly it's obvious she still cares an abundance for him, and that just makes this all the more better. 'Better', cos well… Operation… _something_ , will be his prominent one out of his portfolio of others. Mongoose, psh! That other one, pft! But this one…, this one will make headlines all over town. Not only will he make his family whole again, with addition of Hook, but also receive the respect he deserves throughout town and rid of those judging stares. Actually, no! Screw the town, they can go suck it! All he needs is Jay and his family, then he'll be set. He wanted to start anew with Emma, and so he's going to begin by changing himself for the good (again). Only, the challenge will be to not revert to his current ways, but move forward. Just keep swimming.

 _#You were the one thing in my way_  
 _You were the one thing in my way_

 _"My way, oh way, oh way, oh way."_ Already he can feel a shift in his energy. Changing course of route, Henry decides to get the one thing out his way preventing him from moving forward. Facing up to his past to rid of the haunting is an important facet in life many struggle with, and he's ready to go head on with it. _"My way…"_

He'll make it his way.

* * *

Heading her way toward the warehouse, Jay reels through the days events this far while keeping vigilante of anyone nearby. Change of clothes to nothing but black, check. Her trademark mask that would make even Shakespeare's tragedies squirm, check. Smitten demeanor…, fading nonetheless, but check. All's to do is get in then the hell out before she's caught. Does she think she will be? No. Has she been questioning herself and actions since meeting Henry lately? Yes. Will it affect her duties, specifically this one? Hell no—a job is a job, and she's not going to let her emotions get the better.

Besides being in a dull mood not wanting to do said job currently, Jay was in one of her usual moods to go on a music spree. She remembers last she was on one it was paired with burning a house, stealing a pair of shoes, and befriending two people of her interest. Good times she would say but— the phone rings. _"What?"_ she complains.

It's quiet on the other end before an exaggerated sigh sounds. "Always dare to display such rebellion nephew?"

"When you can't tell that my balls are gone, yes. Again, what?"

"Hm, such character in you…. I just wanted to know if you're doing what your father told you earlier."

"So you're checking in on me?" her face deadpans.

"Responsible acts of being an uncle if I say so."

"With caring…?"

Lips smack, "Sure." A chair can be heard swiveling on his end. "Do you have all your equipment? Are you wearing the mask?"

"Yeah, yeah—I got it all down. Now what _exactly_ am I trying to find here again?"

"Any inconsistencies and such. I'm sure he many times told you the importance of no loose ends nor flaws in his plan, hence, checking up on the crime scene. I see your bronze daftness hasn't escaped your switch…."

"Ignoring that—why couldn't you do this? Don't you have more experience with this kinda stuff?"

"Mmm… Merci pour votre compliment Kai… change of heart I see?"

"That wasn't—"

 _"Of course it wasn't,"_ Pride taunts in a cooing tone. "Aside from that, you are fully aware of your limited role with Ms. Swan now, yes? The continuance of your budding 'friendship' with her must sadly come to a heart wrenching end."

"Yeah," Jay scoffs, rolling her eyes. "He made himself pretty clear earlier being a pain."

"Ah, well," he leans back in the chair he's in. "Your father did tell me you were a—what did he say…?—that you were a… _pendulum_ to be reckoned with."

"Excuse me?" she stops in her tracks, and notices the heavy clouds rolling in overcasting the sky in a deep gray.

Pride suppresses a hiccup. "Ah yes, y'know, the way they swing to and fro in a consistent period, but unlike you—who's all over the place not adhering to the fundamentals—finds refuge in their mood swings even when those 'swings' aren't validated three quarters of the month, _so…_ "

 _"And **he** said this?"_

"Lawrence, technically, but yes. You're quite a havoc nephew, which is reason I'm calling, to ensure everything's going swell! Though… from your apparent voice, it sounds it isn't. Did he not tell you to wear the meat suit? Or are you, too, still infatuated with your current looks like me…?—mine being the most alluring obviously," he drawls, but's interrupted by a hiccup.

"Huh… complisulting me while being concern, yet devoid of the affection… You're drunk."

"Mm, _tipsy_ dear. It's plenty of fun indulging in your vices, you should try it."

Jay scrunches her face. "Eh yeah, thanks but no. Don't call me anymore tonight." _Click._ She has a job to do and cannot let a drunk uncle impede her focus, even if it's disoriented a bit.

Yet, the only reason it's effing disoriented is because her best and only friend, Henry, is too ignorant and oblivious to see the telltale signs right in his face that it was her that made him and Emma's life shittier than should be. Honestly, sometimes she doesn't know exactly what Ahijah sees in the brunet that is prodigal. What, that he's a clueless ass?

 _He can be an ass to Emma and others at times…_

That he's basically a disrespectful adolescent, which can easily transcend through his pupil years?

 _He says a lot of crappy things to Emma, and even Hook undeservedly at times…_

That he's going to be more better than herself…? Even when he has yet to exhibit his magic…?

 _He's not better than me… strength and magic wise. Morally, sure_ _…_ _, but even then he's still a douche! A-a-a disrespectful, clueless and naive… charming douche!_

Yes…, if she can keep on this path of thinking, then she can get this task done without remorse for the victim that's plaguing her thoughts. Instead of thinking the positive out the negative…, think the negative out the positive! So that means Henry Mills, Hershey, the ray of sunshine and other similar bubbly stuff he is, is actually a self-absorbed, hating piece of shit! (she absently cringes) Fuck him! Fuck his problems! Fuck his feelings! Fuck all of that shit! Roll the whiny-bitch up, like his same-name reigning predecessors in history, and guillotine his shook ass! Cos if she recalls those months ago he was earlier ranting, he _exactly_ was a clenching and quivering ass-cheek that couldn't do sasquatch 'ish for himself. _Chance what?_ There's no _chance_ when getting jump! You can't have a _chance_ to prove you have a substance of balls on you to take on a gang! The whole point of getting jumped is getting  your ass _whooped._

And if anything, he deserved it! It's not her style to do anything alarming to innocents than douche-bags, but oh how much she itched to strangle the boy before they became friends. From her time here and 'watching' the Swan-Mills family, Henry was, and still is, a complete douche to everyone—especially Emma! Yeah, there are strained relationships between parent and child, it's practically normal. But then there are _strained_ relationships between parent and child, and Henry and Emma's is one. When a mother asks their child to do something, they do it. Eye-roll, sure; a dramatic sigh, okay; sluggish movement, tolerable; but all of those combined with addition of a sardonic remark not needed for, usually follows for a good scolding (usually _after_ the pop in the mouth/upside the head). That is strained, but what is _strained_ is being told to do something from mentioned parent, and instead of the given examples average children do, instead they _challenge_ the parent to do said task for themselves—

Jay irritably shakes her head going through her phone to play something in her quiet surroundings while mumbling a slew of things, thinking onward.

Disappointingly, she witnessed a similar act done in the Charming household with Henry. She remembers the day being a typical one in Henry and Emma's recovery. The three were eating lunch that day in the living room, Netflix and chilling, followed with Emma asking Henry to pass a napkin. He was on the other end of the couch with the napkins conveniently close to him—on the coffee table. She asked again, to which he ignored. Simple request Jay thinks, just hand your mother—or any person at that—some napkins. But as always with Henry, it's a fucking big deal when it involves Emma or Hook, or even David.

Though, David's next in line to get something long due for his behavior, she settles.

Jay expected Henry's pettiness to just end there, ignoring Emma, but instead he had the gall to challenge Emma to get it herself, saying something like: "You're not incapable of immobility. And so if you're not incapable of the capable, then you can be the average individual to take care of herself. Independence is your thing, isn't it Emma?" And then left it at that picking away at his food.

The worse part was that Emma didn't even try to rebuke that smart retort! Instead, she just gave him an unsettling stare that _then_ compelled him to drop the assery and try to slide the napkins over with his socked foot, which was resting on the coffee table. Not only did this cause a twitch to Jay's eye as she witnessed this, but what was even more worse was when he attempted to 'hand' over the napkins to Emma he managed to also spill a cup, specifically Jay's cup, causing the napkins to become useless. No, no, no that wasn't even the head twister. When he did this, Henry didn't even managed to apologize to her or Emma, but instead gave a simple, plain _'oops'_ that would've made even a Pacifist take 'action'. So instead of the supposed consequences to follow when a child acts like this, Jay made an excuse to clean her spill she took ownership of while having to defuse Emma from doing it herself… the act that _her_ son did—the tool move _Henry_ did.

Thinking back on it now, Jay profusely wishes that she had censored Henry for that, from the ignoring to the immobility of apologizing and not cleaning the damn mess himself. He wasn't incapable of the capable of being a dick, that was for sure. But making Emma look and probably feel so small? Yeah, no. It is now safe to say that Jay currently holds no positive thought towards the little bitch, and as bad she'll feel later on thinking this of him, it is only pushing her further to complete this little order.

 **~Cfys~**

Scratching off 're-acquainting with the crate room' he was attacked and cornered in—with a sundry of feelings endeavoring to surge him—Henry slowly, tepidly, shuffles his way up the rickety metal steps he never remembered encountering those months ago. The rail was frigid and rusted as he feathered his hand on it, while feeling a touch of nausea strike from the assumed instability the stairs gave. It escapes him still how Hook ever carried him and Emma down…

Reaching the top, he pauses a moment and takes sight of the whole warehouse before him—being able to spot exactly the route he took when he ran from his jumper. Looking from above, though, only stirred more unwelcoming feelings in him; just thinking of his mother or father looking down on him during that ugly moment in his life ignites the shame and embarrassment in him. Without hesitance he stepped away and made way to the bathroom.

Entering, Henry instantly felt chills shudder all over his body, with the nimblest of hairs striking with record. The room felt filled…, yet empty, as if a vessel was devoid of life—a soul. He felt he was standing in something callous and heartless just waiting to swallow him up, where then suddenly it felt sullen and heavy with pushing gloom. Something happened in here that gave such morbid and uncanny life to a dingy room like this, he thinks.

But alas it's useless…. It is useless to settle on such a thought when he knows exactly what happened. His mother…, his own biological mother, Emma, almost… almost…

 _"God!"_ he scoffs loudly, throwing his arms on his head. It is useless to think this! It's useless cos… cos… well because it lead him **here**! For fucks sake it lead him to the mess he is! The mess he _made!_ This crime scene… this _monstrosity_ before his eyes is the tragedy **_he_** wrote!

 _Oh god… Oh god!… Oh— **no** , **no** , **no** , **NO!** Amends, moving on, closure. Amends, moving on, closure. Stick with the plan Henry! Don't break now, **don't** break now! _

He broke on Regina's death…, he almost collapsed on his father's…, Cora's was practically his fault…, so why not Emma's? Why not break on hers? What's so special about hers that he couldn't weep over the aspect alone of almost losing her forever? What's **_so_** adamant in him preventing any tear shed of losing Emma?

Is it because he just won't? Is it because there is some dormant part in him, now awakening like a volcano, that really did want her dead _…_? Is it because—

"Stop. Stop, stop, please stop."

Or is it becausssse he's becoming the cold-hearted perssson his mother, Regina, usssed to be _…_

"Stop! I don't know what—" (presses finger on pulsing temple and squints eyes) " _Uuugh…_ Just stop thinking Henry, _stop thinking_." (crouches down in some more pain)

 _Or rather she still isss_ _…? Your mother has done a lifetime's worth of deedsss more reprehensssible than the next, Henry. Don't let her fool you even in death…, don't let your mother's death consssume you_ _…. Don't let Emma's failed 'reprieve' overbear and burden your shouldersss. It's not your fault._

"What?!" he shrieks, ignoring the spasm of pain at his temple. "It is my fault! _I almost lost_ ** _MY MOM_** _!_ My fucking mother that still CARES and LOVES me was almost killed by… by s-some freakin' Psychopath! I am the **_worst_ ** fucking son there is! Th-th-there's no going back from that! I-I-I have to make this right… I gotta—I gotta go tell her I'm sorry. I have to… to make this right somehow."

 _It's not your fault…_

"Shuddup, shuddup, shuddup," he keeps muttering to himself as he paces around the room constructing what to say to Emma than spit out nothing to her. All this antsy movement was pushing forth memories from that night when he was exactly here, feeling weak and pathetic and just a heady storm of emotions toward his family and Emma. He glances at the already shattered mirror seeing nothing but a multiflection of himself polarizing on his split persona.

 _It's not your fault…_

He deeply hisses from the lulling, echoing, yet slithering voice trying to ease him. Has he always had this certain voice of conscience? If this is another part of him on the road of self-discovery, then now's not the time to be enlightened by it. It doesn't know what it's talking about! Hell, he doesn't know what he's talking about if it is him. Instead this is just another darkening thought trying to slink its way through and prevent him from moving forward and being the person he wants to actually be.

 _And what's thaaat? Hm…? I think you are perfect jussst the way you aaaare_…

"Shutup! You don't know me—or, no! I-I _do_ know myself. I just—"

 _Just what, Henry? Talk to me, don't be afraid…_

A thick scoff laces. "I'm not afraid! You're just me and I don't wanna listen to you right now," he said, looking at the cracked mirror.

 _You're afraid to let Emma know your feelingsss relating her attaaack…. You're afraid to tell your family the nightmaaaress you get from that night…. You're afraid of yourself…_

"If I wanted to tell them, then I would had. And I'm not… afraid of myself…" _Am I?_

* * *

 **~Cfys~**

"If I wanted to tell Henry that it was me, then I would have, alright? Get out of your damn mind Bexton and just finish the task." Jay peeks behind some crates in a corner seeing if anything telltale is there. "Besides… we agreed that H is nothing but a no good rotten scum piece of—"

 _Is that… is that blood?_ Dried, but nonetheless blood.

Jay pulls down her hood and mask to examine the faint brown patch on the concrete. She remembers beating up the little shitstick, but not to the point where there's a obvious blotch in front of her. When did this happen?

 _Not the time to reflect Bexton_ … _gotta get going._ That thought of, Jay rose from her crouched position and covered her head back up, taking a withering moment scanning the room while trying not to let any poor memories or thoughts bombard her, no matter how difficult it was.

Forcefully—but with such reluctance—departing from the room, she muscles her way to the other four-walled room that will without doubt ignite babbling emotions. Her movement compares to an elderly climbing stairs—fearful of a slip-up to result, but determined to make it to the top just because.

When she does succeed her climb, she has to quickly thank God for not stumbling on the most rickety steps she's ever come across. That, or she was pretty certain vertigo was going to hit her there in that moment. Although, just being feet away from the room where anything went for show those months ago, isn't consideration to dismiss vertigo so hasty. She never had an issue with heights before, but now… now is the time to consider her values. Like is this worth it? Is it worth it to check up on something she hasn't even done that everyone accuses she has? Jay doesn't even have a clue what really happened in the bathroom other than the hush hush action the sheriff committed. Nor is there any clue how Henry got from the first floor to the second. Honestly, is it even worth it to continue?

She can call it quits right now. She can sprint as fast as she can toward the town's border and disappear forever. She can start anew herself without anyone. So is it worth it?

Is it?

Jay stiffly and slowly muscles her way down the hall and is careful altogether on her movement. There is some glass dispersed wildly in the main path that looks harmful if one tripped, and besides the unstable steps, there is many other hazards the warehouse offers without warning. Why did she seclude Henry here she will never know.

That's a lie, she knows exactly why. One would have to be daft not to use this relative isolated place to corner their prey. Especially if said prey willingly walked to this part of the docks himself. If anything, Henry did set himself up to get screwed.

"And yep, I need to get outta here." She leans against a wall not far from the bathroom and tries to catch her breath. This negative thinking of Henry is taking its toil, and damn her for letting it happen. "Alright Bexton," she mindfully whispers, "in and out. If anything, Jaf left a hair, that's it. You got this." Saying this, Jay ambles her way to the bathroom and is a step away from entering, right before seeing the back of the one person she _did not_ expect to be here.

Swiftly she pulls herself back like a puppeteer controlling her, and presses herself against the wall inches away from the bathroom's entrance. Instinctively her hand covers her mouth beneath the mask, forbidding any sound from emitting, moreover bile spewing. Cos, oh shit, vertigo is having its time.

 _Ffffffffffuck‼ Fuck, fuck, fuckety, fuck! **FUCK!** What the—why is he here?! **Why?!**_

"Oh my… oh my… ermuh…." She needs to leave right now. Forget the order, forget the plan (momentarily), forget all that shit. Everything crumbles if she doesn't get her ass moving NOW.

 _Ok Bexton…, move your legs. Move your legs…. Move dammit!_ Paralyze. She's paralyzed. _Oh my fuckin'…_ She harshly wipes her face and eyes not believing this. How the hell could she be paralyzed? Why is she so shock that—

Suddenly Henry's voice carries over. "Ok, ok, ok! If I decide not to tell Emma right now, then that leaves me to Operation Reparation…," all of a sudden pacing isn't heard. "No… that name won't work… but if I go ahead with this plan then everything will be fine. Everything will be fine and normal again. And things will go back to normal; I won't loath and be loathed…. Yeah, this can work—what? … Of course people hate me! My whole family hates me! I hate me! …yes they do…. SHE HATES ME TOO! She doesn't even want to actually talk! She's too secretive… she—she doesn't want to tell me anything relating to anything about her. Who the hell does with a loser like me?! Out of all people ME? **_Me?!_** ( _a breathy chuckle_ ) Sooner than later she's going to see the freak I am… the issues I have… the piece of shit I choose to be…. The issues I have are too problematic, let's just admit it! I _**hate** _ my stepfather, I hate my grandparents—everybody at that—, and I **_hate_** — … No, no. I don't. But I _HATE_ the fact that she's hiding something from me! I-I **_hate_ ** that she still treats me as a little kid who can't distinguish shit from shit! She's too caught up in the case thinking she has to prove something _than just TALKING TO ME‼_ ( _roughly rakes hair_ ) SHE DOESN'T CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE! … No, I did… I-I just… I didn't mean it like that…"

Immobility has long left Jay Bexton; instead, that daunting knot, that sinking feeling, that unsettling etch-a-sketch static in her chest, has all concurrently become noticeable two- three- four- folds within her with the numbers increasing. She's at a lost for words… thoughts even.

 _How can… (leave_ … _)  
_ _He just… (Leave_ … _)  
But_— _  
_

 _LEAVE!_

She has to… she has to leave, um—

Heavy thuds racketing against her chest; legs filled with lead leading her on; and an airy, incoherent mind feeling it'll deflate any second, are the only aspects Jay can barely focus on as she mindlessly descends the rickety—

 **Cling!** _Thump._ **Cling!** _Thump._ **Cling…** _(metal sound dying)_

"Oh god, oh god, _oh freakin'—_ " Resting her head on the rail she's death gripping, organs doing cartwheels and somersaults were flourishing inside Jay as she uses her strength to keep her queasiness strictly that from her careless misstep on the damn stairs.

But something that loud cannot go unnoticed. "Huh? Who's there?" shouts Henry.

Next what was heard were a halt of steps, and then a quick rhythm following. There was no time for Bexton to finish down the steps without making more noise and prolonging herself to Henry's view. What quickly followed was her cautiously ducking from his view and sliding beneath a stair—it's an open, steep staircase—provided her slim and lithe body. Despite the ease of this, it was mid-stair she was at and so depicted her dangling beneath the staircase like monkey bars. Yet, there was no option but to drop down, taking injuries and all from any loose glass, to which she did—effortlessly—then to hurriedly press herself against the wall right beneath Henry's view from the warehouse's balcony.

"Who's there?! Show yourself!" again he yelled, this time over the rail, clenching it with white knuckles as his pulse rises. "I'm not… I'm not afraid of you!" This time he leans his torso over the rail to detect anyone beneath him—in the hideaway.

Far pressed in the hideaway's corner, Jay can't help but consider from Henry's voice how afraid he actually sounds. If she stays silent long enough, the younger brunet's chopped breathing can be heard.

With his pupils dilated and movement antsier than before, Henry intently scans the warehouse floor for any signs of an intruder. It's dusk now and he should be home, yet going there seems terrifying considering he doesn't know who or even what is in the warehouse. It's a struggle for him to hurry and leave rather than yell something provoking to the stranger. Though, the overwhelming desire to leave than stay won him over, and so he disappears in the bathroom gathering his belongings.

 _Is he gone…?_ Jay cautiously peeks away from the hideaway and zones no antsy brunet on the floor above her… for now. Claiming that was a close call is too jinxing, she can breathe _after_ she moves her ass. And so that's what she does, gingerly staying on the outskirts of the building with any obstructions providing coverage. Time fell by the grain as she took her time and sidled her way through the maze of the warehouse, too scared to leave her back open.

By time she's out, it isn't until then she's aware of her rampaging heart that's now beginning to die down. The level of fear she just experienced there felt too surreal for her own good. There isn't a time she can think on spot when she ever felt like that.

The sun's practically below the horizon now with refraction taking place, and she has only completed half an order. Now she has to consider the consequences that will— _"To hell the consequences!"_ She harshly whispers while untangling her earbuds, taking the breath she needed. "If Ahijah wants to bitch then let him bitch. I do not have time to…," her stride slows from the difficulties untangling the buds. "To clean the mess he made…," she lifts her mask, scrutinizing on a knot, "th-that he can't keep clean his—" now she bites the knot. _" **Ugh!** " _Altogether she stops and shoves away the earbuds and pulls out her phone, muttering an array of curses. "Screw it, earbuds suck anyway. Should've just bought—"

 ** _Slam!_** went Jay's body onto the ground sending waves of discomfort all over. The only movement she could muster were writhes and sliding her mask back on. _What the hell just—_ she thinks (thankfully not speak) as she clumsily pushes herself up and wobbles some.

"Not so fun being forced down, is it?" That voice…

 _No…_

Slowly turning and bitterly wishing to see something much more different, Jay spot on sees no one other than Henry.

And seeing no one other than the assbag that humiliated him and almost killed his mother, Henry stands his ground with a strict demeanor and half raised fists, ignoring his quivering organs. "I see your back…"

"…"

"What? Too chicken to talk?" He took a step forward to which she took one back. "Come on… I'm not afraid of you. Y-you and me right now, let's go." Another shaky step forward; another solid step back.

"…"

"Come on! Fight me!" Half a step forward; no step back. This caught Henry off. _"Fight me!"_

 _No…. No._

Only action Henry sees is his jumper shaking their head. This alone causes something in him to twitch. "You attacked me… y-you attacked me and almost killed my mother! And so now you think you have the gall _not_ to take action you were so insistent on last time…? YOU **FUCKIN'** ALMOST KILLED MY MOTHER!"

 _I'm sorry…_

Another head shake he sees and this time a voluntary step back. "No…. No, no, no. You don't get to do this," his voice deeply graved with a certain look clouding his features as he slowly took steps forward. "You made even more of a victim out of me, for pity and spite. You made an example out of me others _cringe_ to. You fucked up my family more than should be. And above all, you literally almost made me an _orphan_. The last parent I have you tried to take from me… you almost killed Emma!"

 _I didn't though. I really didn't!_

Again they shake their head, with legs following their own volition of distancing themselves from Henry, who's following suit, entranced in his own words. "You almost killed Emma…"

 _No, I didn't! I didn't!_ Another rough head shake.

"Emma almost died… you almost killed her…"

 _I DIDN'T!_ Hands and head both signal a definitive **No**.

Opposed to Henry's who's a hard yes. "You did…. You killed my mom."

 _What?! What are you—_

"You killed her and now she's dead…, you killed her. Are you happy…?" He cocked his head.

 _What is he talking about? I didn't kill Regina!_ Lowly, to mask her voice, she says, "Henry, I _—"_

 _" **ARE YOU HAPPY SHE'S DEAD?!** —" _Arms lunge hungrily for the masked fiend who with quick agility ducks out Henry's grasp, both of them halfway hitting the ground regaining their composure. " _Huh?!_ You happy?! **_Tell me!_** _"_ He pushes himself off the ground like a track runner and again lunges for his mom's killer, who's a distance away running for their life.

 _You're crazy! Shit, I didn't kill your mom!_ Jay intensely wishes she can say this aloud and not be the little chicken bitch Henry thinks she is, but fuck… why didn't she listen and switch bodies like told earlier? **_Fuck!_**

This is all she can do now. All there is to this is running like her life depends on it and not look back. If she looks back, she's screwed. Looking forward, she still screwed, because their is an adrenaline pumped paranoid Hershey behind her doing his damnest to gain on her heels. She can only imagine what he would do if he _— No! Don't imagine! Don't imagine! Ssshiiit, don't effin' imagine!_

It doesn't even matter if she does or doesn't, this isn't some occurrence where she can easily sweep under the carpet and walk over it. This is mind-plague worthy. Mind-fuck worthy is this shit! _What the hell was she thinking?!_ Why the hell did she think it was fine not to switch bodies?! Why the hell did she think that out of all days, Henry wouldn't come today?! It was just today she told the brunet to gain some closure by revisiting the warehouse, and stupidly she thought it was fine to assume everything will go fine? The fuck! To hell with this crap _—_ she needs to find a detour.

 _Ok which way to go?_ (looks at warehouses) _Fuck no!_ They are not going to switch roles for this. What about the beach, she can drown _— No, you can't drown him Bexton! That would've worked before, but not now._ Keep running? _Fuck, that's all I have… keep going, Jay. Keep going, keep going, keep going, keep—_

 _" **Mmmm‼** Sssshhh… ah, fffuck!"_ Leg cramp.

Karma's a froggy bitch.

 _Shake it off, shake it the fu_ _—_ _"_ ** _Agh!_** _"_ She can't do this, she can't…. But she can't get caught either. There's no alternative to this without physical damage, and truthfully she thinks she doesn't have the strength to transform into her natural form. It's too much, messy, and rioting. Crap, she has to keep running, but can't! This isn't costing her steps, this is costing her _time_. Time before Henry finds out the truth and strips her disguise. Time before she'll be shun here like her other home. Time before she's wholly cast aside by any person she's cared for, and will then become estranged to. No one will understand, no one will care.

All these negative thoughts and stiff movement gives life to her Tinman run. She can't do this anymore _—_ at least run like this _—_ she has to face the inevitable. Jay needs to stop Henry, or more thoughtfully slow him down.

She tries to hold out a little longer _—_ what entirely felt like a long distance actually wasn't _—_ before she turns her front toward Henry _—_ who's physique is very questionable this moment _—_ and trots backward signaling for a timeout. All very normal.

"You killed her!" he hoarsely screams and displaces his foot, almost causing himself to fall. He doesn't look well.

The more he proclaims and declares this, Jay thinks, the more she's infuriated and worried over what's compelling him to mix up both his mothers. It's not a fair concoction stirring within her.

He then throws a slow punch, to which she ducks from and puts up her hands to signal _'stop'_. Again he does this and again she does same. This goes on for a few more seconds before Henry's movements become more sluggish and even himself has to catch a burning breath. How desperately he wants to crouch over and hurl cannot be described. And as furious his heart is beating from this whole situation doesn't sway him to relinquish and ball himself up. There's too many scenes flitting back-to-back rapidly and poignantly. What's happening to him…?

 _Are you done?_ Jay conveys with her body to him. Him tiring himself out was all the more better than her harming him. Speaking of which, he shakily kneels over heavily catching his breath and faintly touches his side. _Is he hurt…?_ she thinks, carefully inching closer to examine any injuries that recently appeared. He doesn't move and subtly nods that she can continue and this one time help him out.

It must be the stitches from the broken rib he had. But… that's not the side it was—

 _ **Wham!**_

" _MmmGghMm_ … _!"_

Regaining his breath, and shaking out his sore hand, Henry fully straightens his posture and relishes from the squealing crouched douche cradling his masked face from the full-squared punch he just received. And damn if it didn't feel satisfying doing that, feels the teen. Next was a merciless full throttle kick to the bastard's side, ensuing a laced squeal pitching deep and high.

"Doesn't feel good does it? Doesn't feel good when you get your ass _—_ " _* **kick** *_ "quickly handed to ya, does it?" Something's not right.

"Your ass…," Bexton croaks, definitely not hearing the sound of her voice but something laced in fluid and rasping.

 _Finally a reaction!_ thinks Henry as he bends over ready to hear the other. "Huh? Your what?"

"Your ass…," she's able to get in a kneel position, "…is mine." That said, she out of the blue backhands a slap at the brunet's face. who stumbles back, and… laughs?

She tries to get up, but manages to lag back down. Yet it's the groaning energy and fiery rage of the creature she is that sparks life within her and has eyes glowing amber. Now she's able to get back on her feet.

Henry prods, "Come on…," and scuttles in place. "Come on! Fight me!"

She's on her feet, she has her power and the energy to rain hell, but the drive… it's rapidly diminishing. She can't. It's… it's impossible to inflict any injuries to him. Her eyes are already scrutinizing the red mark on his face, and instantly she's regretting it. If she could apologize right now, she would. Instead though… instead she just shakes her head, once again stepping back. This is not how it will go down. This is not, and won't, be in the story.

"Stop shaking your head…," volumes down Henry. It's like his jumper is… disappointed? _No…, no. He doesn't have the right to be disappointed. He doesn't have the right to-to…,_ "Stop it! STOP shaking your head!"

 _No…, I can't do this Hershey, I'm sorry._ Her glowing eyes drain and power recedes.

"No…, st-stop shaking your…your _—_ " he presses the heel of his palm to his head. _"Stay out of it!"_

"Henry…," Jay whispers.

"Y-you did this!" Suddenly in a flash his arm snatched at the jumper's with nails digging. "Y-y-you caused everyone t-to turn _against_ me! You whispered li-like the snake you are to them on how to _handle_ me! He seethed with his throat taut and eyes feral.

 _Henry, let go…._ Bexton squirms herself to release from his talon grip, but alas nothing. She doesn't like being touched, yet alone held against will.

"I should kill you…," was his eerie vacant response, his grip tightening. "I could bury your body here…." He glances at the ocean. "And no one will find you…." He looks back to the other with a cool face.

To which the other profusely shakes their head, for many, many reasons that is. He's in the mindset of murder, Jay thinks, and herself is more than familiar with it. She needs to leave.

Making this happen, Bexton tosses a punch with her free hand and then astonishes how easy Henry's deflects it. Unfortunately, both her arms were restrained and the more she struggled the harder he pinched and twisted at alarming angles. This was not going in her favor. Further, what extra is giving him this strength? All of this is too surreal.

What adds more to this feeling was his candid endeavor to rip her mask off. That's when he crossed the line.

Using all strength and will she had left to keep Henry barely back from exposing her was too difficult to maintain. Instead she threw a headbutt.

To which he recovered from… _fuuuuuck,_ she internally moans from both pain and surprise. But cause pain is felt on some level, the teen slacks his eagle grip on the other, offering a glimpse of leeway to Jay to make a bustled dash for it. Thus, igniting Henry to do same, and this time with no remorse.

For an enduring minute it's a fervent chase among the two as she zigzags to tire him, and he almost always managing to closely clip her (or _his_ ) heel… until they abruptly turned again.

Regrettably, it was then where her footing went amiss causing her zag run to instantly jerk—buffering on which way to go. Swiftly following Henry to come from behind and grasp for her jacket to stop himself and catch her—burning rubber on his soles. She then ducks and twists herself in a weird manner where her back arches under him, one arm somehow clutching the lapel of his coat and the other holding for dear life on his, all this causing uncontrollable pivoting and—

 _" **Agh** , FUCK!"_ Did he just—

 ** _Slam!_** (again) went her body forcefully on the ground from that superbly unanticipated flip…, not to mention pin.

 _Oh_ … _Shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! Did he just_ … _no, he didn't just_ — _And the pin?!_

Currently Henry is atop her pinning her hands between his, while using his other to unmask her. Both constantly flustering at each other. Typically in a plight like this, Bexton would've burned his hands or huff smoke at his face, making for an easy getaway. Though because it's Henry… she knees him in the groin, and to which he instantly drops to his side and balls himself up.

Consequently a gap is shown for her to flee at which she pursues, scampering. The way she ups and outs is similar to douche no.3's stumbling, only difference is that she's getting away.

 _Yes! Alright, just don't look back. Keep going and don't look back. Don't look back…._ Now is the proper time for her to breathe and be thankful. Now she can—

A cutthroat, pungent scream slices the air, causing Bexton's legs and spine to weaken. She turns and loses mobility from the scene of her friend.

 _He's still; Henry's still—why is he still?_ Does she… should she… wh-what does she do?

Her heart's thrumming deeper than bass while her head's vacuuming any other thoughts besides worry. The sound of water lapping and a random seagull yapping, just the general sounds of the docks cutting the sea air with loud hisses of silence howling didn't dwell right in Jay. Something's wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

At first it's a step, then another, followed by a jog—full out run to the boy. This is too similar to the other time, thinks she. Approaching him she notices nothing other than his steady breathing. She pokes him, nothing. Touches his face and hair, nothing. Even says his name in her voice…, nothing.

Now the candid sounds of nature are becoming mute to her as she only focuses on the dialing of her phone.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! _Pick up…._ " _He'll answer, he has to. He can't just ignore me. He can't just—_

 _You have reached the voicemail of 2-0—_

"Great, just… great. Fu—nope, no, no. It's fine Jay. It's great, it's effin' great, Tony the Tiger: Greaaat!" _Serves me right being cocky earlier._

Okay…, she can do this. She can somehow haul Henry home… somehow. All she needs to do is put her arm under here… and that one over there… lift him up some then pull—oh no, drop. Maybe if she drags him from the feet then she'll be able to—oh no, that didn't work either. It's great, though. Looking from this angle, she can probably—

"Oh fffff…," her hands rest atop her head. She doesn't have this, what the hell was she thinking? She never had any of this!

 _Ring, ring, ring,_ dials the line again as Jay bites her nail and paces. The sun is gone and coldness is rushing through, Henry is unconscious (she nervously glances at him), and transportation is futile. Now what?

 _Pick up Pride. Pick up!_

"Yeeeesss?" finally answers he. "It is said that second time is the charm. Sorry I couldn't answer on the first, the phone was too far on the desk for me to care, err, I mean reach."

Her eye twitches. "I need your help…."

"Pardon, what was that?"

 _"Your help,"_ she seethes. "I need _your **help**_."

"Music to my loins nephew—"

 _"What?!"_

 _" Ears,"_ he corrects, stifling a chortle. "Dear, you seem a tad jumpy…. What's your fuckup?"

"My fuckup is your fuckup _you_ **_fuckup!_** " She erupts, then freezes because of Henry; her voice lowers. "Henry was fuckin' here! He was here a-an-and he almost got me and shit, I just—" her voice quivers and pace intensifies. "Then—then he punched and kicked me wh-which almost made _me_ go… go… fuckin' y'know! And then I got him b-but didn't, I mean, h-he he _did_ the move—th-the _move_ you taught me and—"

"Dear, settle down. Where is the boy currently?"

Jay shies a look behind, "With me… unconscious."

"Hmm…."

"I didn't do it!"

" _Right…_ , why don't you just leave?"

"I can't—I can't do that! He'll freeze! People will worry!"

"By 'people' you mean you?" The creak of a chair is heard. "Just leave."

"What the hell aren't ya gettin'?! I can't leave him—I won't!"

A withering sigh is heard. "Besides challenging my nerves _(irritably rubs temple)_ , this is where you tick improperly my dear; you do not listen. When I say 'leave' there is no option presented. When I check in on you and inquire the same basis of topics your father first brought up, that is a hint to _listen_ and _comply_. Listen to what I tell you, nephew, and comply. _Leave_."

"I… I can't." Her pacing stops and guilty eyes set on the brunet boy she'd came to like. "I can't."

Pride shifts in the chair and lets his movement do the talking for awhile. "…recall that incident three months back…."

 _"That was hysteria…,"_ she feebly counters.

"Mmm, no… that was unprecedented, meaning now—the same _unfortunate_ plight you're in—will be precedent upon the prior. In other so… **_so_ ** simple words that it actually pains me to say this: Do not let your fuckup be **_T_ _he_ **_fuckup_ , You will have plenty more to make, why waste it now?"

 _Why waste it now?_ "Because… cos…"

"Just leave. He'll be fine; the prince will be alright. All you have to do is move… just leave."

All she needs to do is leave. Just like Pride said: Henry will be fine; he'll be alright.

 _He'll be fine… he'll be fine… he'll be—_ "Are you sure? I can't—I just," she pauses, reviewing the star boy that's taken a hold on her like no other. "He'll be fine?"

There's a soft hush from both ends before the lank man responds. "It's apparent you care for him…, so I'll keep it so. Just leave, darling."

"Right… right," she whispers and nods, then to drop her arm down, still clutching the phone.

A cloud of tranquility overcomes Jay. That indiscernible yet alleviating cloud that passes over lifting the tension away and giving room for wonder and delight. Wonder…, wonder on how the day will begin tomorrow, how the week after will be, how life can be altered all so easily. And delight…, delight that there will be a tomorrow, delightful that the week after can result in something positive, delightful that life can be lived however desired. The ongoing, soft bobbing of the boats; the crescent moon trying to peek its way between the moseying clouds; and the lapping sound of water crooning has entranced Jay. Aside the current situation, everything seems so… perfect. If could, she would sit down right now and just drink this masterpiece with her eyes. Just let her thoughts run rampant and free… beyond the abyss, beyond the depths, brood the impossible. It's complex…; _she's_ complex.

"Just leave Jay…," she mutters, looking beyond. "He'll be fine, just go." Eyes don't take chance to review the unconscious brunet, instead they usher Jay to look. Look at what is presented, and think how this can be a better tomorrow.

 _Follow your orders Jay. Listen and comply. It's all going to be okay… just let go and you'll be fine._

She raises her foot and a step is taken. She fixes her mask with eyes focused, and a route is noticed. All that's left is to abide with these thoughts and she'll be home before she knows it. _Let go…._

Another small step is taken and her vision is still fixed. _Let go._

Home is only a ways over. Comfort is at her doorstep. She can already feel the comfort her home offers swathing her. Tranquility ebbing in again. **_Let go!_**

 _Now yank it all off!_ Fling the thoughts of wonder and delight! Let the pictures of a better tomorrow hopelessly crumble between your fingers! Nature is abhorrent and ugly anyway! What masterpiece is it when life is just an ongoing, bobbing piece of shit always trying to peek its way through? Aside from the current situation, life itself is defcon shit. It's putrid, it's revolting, it's squalid, demanding, unconventional, no one wants to prep for it, no one wants to smell a shitstorm of a life when you have your own crap whirring. Sure, think the positive out the negative, vice versa. Although, there will always be a negative out the positive in life because there will always be a challenge, which will come in various forms, hence "Life is full of challenges (in shitastic forms)." **Life:** Who can take the most arrows in the back?

Well, Jay can't take arrows in the back currently. She can, however, take an _arm_ on the back of her _leg_ —a variant form of life's challenges if considered.

Yet, out of life's hectic that is flung, how will you overcome it? Surmount or cower?

 _Get off me, get off me, get off me!_ Is the flood of thoughts rushing in her as she stays swayingly still, occasionally tugging her leg from the vice grip Henry is doing. Tranquility has long drained, but instead should be siphoned into a dart then shot at her. That way she can blackout on this surreal challenge displaying.

Jay commences a bit more passive scuffling while feeling the weight of her heart gain. _**Let go!** Let go, let go, let go, let—_

Henry's grip loosens.

" _Gah!_ Oh my… oh my…." Head shaky and heart racing, Jay moves away and crouches over taking in startled, rasping breaths not even fully comprehending what just happened. Just then, Pride's voice cuts in. "Huh…? Why…why are you still here?"

"Same can be said for you, dear. It seems you forgot to hang up, however, what happened? I heard a struggle…."

"Um…," she wipes her (mask) face. "It was—it was nothing… just uh, got stuck on something I didn't see…. I'm already…," her voice trails off, hearing a voice that shouldn't be.

 _"Help… me…."_

No…, no, no, no. She needs to leave— _has_ to leave. There is no room for—

"Please… help me…everything… everything hurts." A keen hiss escapes as he faintly grabs his head. "They say it's her fault… they say… they say—"

"Kai, _do not_." But Pride's command is ignored as said women rushes to Henry's side.

"Hey," she soothes, forgetting to alter her voice. "Everything's going to be fine… you'll be alright. Just hang on and let me—" yet, these words of assurances are stomped out when a look of sheer terror expresses on Henry's face as he looks above him—at _her (him)_.

 _What is he…?_

"Stay… st-st-stay away from me!" He cries out as he sits up and scuttles away, then tripping over himself. "Stay away! You hear me? St-stay over there!" He shakily points said way, still stumbling over himself and his words. "D-do-don't come any clo-closer! I swear!"

"Nephew, what is happening?" echoes Pride, futilely.

"Nothing…," vacantly says she, slowly taking steps toward the boy to desperately help him out. She just wants to help her friend…

 _"Stay away!"_ Henry croaks, following with a seizure of coughs. "Don't come— _agh!"_ He covers his ears then his face.

Jay continues, "Just let me help you…," and kneels arms-length away from him. Next she gently reaches for his hand to remove it from his face, but he isn't letting. Instead he's rocking to and fro muttering something she can't make out. Something such as _"leave it to…"_ repetitively.

Pride: "Listen to what I'm telling you for the millionth time, Kai: _Leave._ **Now.** "

Henry shakes his head a hard no. "Don't leave me. Don't leave me, don't leave me, please don't. They keep talking. They keep saying it's her fault when I know it isn't." He grips her hand. "It's mine. They know it's mine. Just tell them to stop. Just tell them—"

She still attempts to pull his hand from his face. "Tell them what?"

Suddenly he starts to touch his face— _Is that… is that blood?_ —and makes a horrific face from the red on his hands. "Tell them to stop! Tell them—tell them to… to…"

Bexton waveringly stands. "Henry…." _What is…_

"Help me! The blood won't stop! It won't… it won't—" the sound of metal against a chalkboard screeches delightfully in his ears, which feel they are on the edge of erupting from its current profound aches. Which does he cover to stop? _"Do something!"_

"Ok, well um—" the jumper shuffled in spot baffled on what to do.

" _You do nothing!_ Do you hear me?" inserts Pride. "Go home and—"

 _"Aaaaaaggghh!"_ It's happening again, why is it happening again? There's lukewarm blood coming from all crevices of his face streaming steadily with the keenest ache of his eyes straining. They feel as if they're going to pop out his face any second. Moreover, the base of his voice is again going unheard of as he belches his heart out for anyone, anybody to: _"_ HELP ME‼ Help me, _**PLEASE!** "_

What does she do? What does she do? Flee? Help? Stand in place? Oh god what does she— "Ok Henry, listen to me. It's all in your head. Okay, j-just listen to my voice. Just focus on my voice. It's—it's all going to be alright, I'm here for you," she kneels and grabs his forearm while he's cradles within himself, forehead on the ground. "I'm here for you. Just listen to me: I'm here for—" In a flash the brunet boy just on the ground sprouts off it and sprints toward an undefined spot only then to collapse down once more, succumbing to the horror engulfing him. Jay follows and tries to once again help him out which only resulted a jutting swat blown at her.

"Get out my head!" he cries to the heavens but casts his face from it, cradling it, faintly feeling the humiliation he's expressing.

Bexton lifts her mask and extends her arm trying to gain Henry's attention. "Henry…, Henry look at me. Look at me." She snaps some. "Henry—"

"They won't get out…, they keep talking…, it's her fault." He groans. "It's her fault, it's her fault, it's her fault."

" _No, no, no!_ It's **not** her fault. It's **not** yours. It's **mine** , see?" She gestures, flipping back on the mask. "See…? I-I kicked your ass. I almost killed your Mom."

"You killed Regina?"

"No, no. I almost killed _Emma_ , remember?" Legs begin moving toward him. " _Emma_ almost died cos of me. It's _my_ fault. Take it out on _me_ , not yourself, _me_ …." _Please for the love of Christ work._

" _Jay, I highly advise…,_ " but once again Pride's advice is pushed aside.

Henry stares at the mask fiend for excruciating seconds before finally replying with, "They said… they said it's not your fault either. It's hers…. They're headstrong its hers."

"It's not hers Henry…, it's mine, please it's mine. Chu-chuck away what this voice is telling you a-and _listen_ to me. **I** did it. _I'm_ responsible for it all, okay?"

"Your responsible for it…," he peeks from his hands to his jumper. "So you did it?"

"Y-yes," she fumbles and notices that his hands are lowering. That's a somewhat good sign…. "I-I… I did it. You can blame me, don't—don't listen to the voices, okay?" She takes a step back with his deep step forward.

"You killed her…."

"Almost, yeah…."

Firm step forward. "She's gone cos of you…."

"Y-yeah…, it was close. But she's a fighter." Timid half-step back. "I guess if it weren't f—"

 _Swish!_ sliced the glass through the air, inches from Bexton's face, the surprise barely giving her time to— _**Stab!**_

" _MmmGghMm_ _!"_ was her bite-of-the-lip shrill. "Ffffffuuu…—" She clutches her arm for dear life and hisses from the burning, dirty cut. Henry readily collapses again and retreats back to the voices, returning to sorrow head shakes.

 _Oh my— What do I do? I can't save him… I can't…. What do I…_ She helplessly looks at her friend, then the docks, then back at him. _I can… Maybe I can…_ but instead she raised the phone to her ear. "Pride…, I… I dunno what to do anymore. Henry's down again and I just… I can't—"

Hasted movement can be heard on his end. Things like opening and closing drawers, a coat being thrown on, and other telltale signs that he was in action. It was then he said her name in that sickly sweet way only he can do. "Jay… _Bexton_." A pause. "You do not listen."

Her only reaction is gulping and noticing the instant dryness in her mouth and throat. Seldom does he ever say her name…, seldom.

"When I say _leave_ …," a door can be heard opening, "there is **no** option _ever_ presented to you, child." Steps are heard taken. "When I say 'Kai, _do not_ ,' that is a obvious clue even a pelican-minded exaggerated oaf like you can understand—"

"Pride…"

"When I tell you to _leave_ for a finite amount of times, you _listen_ … and **_complyyyy,_** " he growled like a certain feline.

"Uncle…"

" **NO!** _**Listen**_ and _**Comply!**_ That is what your father taught you! That is what I taught you! That is what we have **all** taught you! And yet, you _dare_ show disrespect toward me when you asked for _my_ _**help**_ … ?" The disbelief in his voice can be heard, but the twisted scowl that can only follow is immeasurable to envision. " _Listen_ closely, my lovely… and _complyyyy_ …."

Bexton's head bows as she submits. "O-okay… okay."

"You… do… _nothing!_ Do you hear me? Do those words ring the emptiest of bells in that eggshell mind of yours? Huh?"

"Y-yes. It does."

"Ah!" he lights. "So you did hear me. Delightful! Wonderful! _Splendid…_ ," his voice darkens again. " _Leave **now**_. Jafar is nothing compared to the tyranny I can rain down, yet, here I am _disciplining_ you. Do not test my patience Jay.  Leave."

She bites her lip. "…and he'll be alright… ?"

He sardonically replies with, "I _did_ say that did I not? Or was you not listening to that as well?"

"No… I mean _yes_. I-I was listening. I was listening." Subconsciously her eyes creep to Henry who's rocking on the ground and whispering things. "I'm leaving right now." And that she was, backing away from her friend, imperatively ignoring the hollowness her heart's sculpting. It was easy, the first few steps, until he stopped and cried at her.

"Please don't leave me! Please, **_please_** , don't. They won't stop. Don't leave me alone with them. _Please don't_."

Pride, still on the phone, urges the younger woman to continue. "He'll be alright. Just go."

 _He'll be alright… Henry will be fine…. Don't look back, Jay._

"Don't leave me! I don't wanna die!"

 _Don't look back. Don't_ — "You're not going to die…. You'll be—"

A harsh reprimand is spewed to her from Pride to not say anything and just continue forth.

" _Dooon't!_ _Please!_ I'll kill myself if I have to… to…," everything goes silent suddenly and Jay arrests her movement, the phone still pressed to her ear, and even Pride trying to discern what's happening.

"Just keep moving…, keep going Jay." Pride prods and says skeptically. "Keep mov…"

"What… what's… _agh_ …," Henry trembles touching his face. "Not again, not again, n-not ag— _Ahh! Aaghh!_ _Aaaagghh!"_

 _"Henry?!"_ Jay pivots around. _"Henry?!"_

"You do not go near him, Jay. Run away—"

"B-but—"

" _Run away!_ Run away and never return! **_Go!_** _"_

First it's a shaky step, then another, followed by a stumbling jog—full out sprint from the boy to the woods with her heart beating crescendo upon crescendo with the course of blood rushing through her ears and dismissing any sense of logic as her main motive is to _not_ keep her heartbeat pumping, nor mind unfazed, nor avoid the whacking of branches, but to keep her mind focused on the inevitable.

 _Henry will be fine, Jay. Just keep going. He will be fine. He's al_ — _"Oof!"_ She trips but resumes her sprint _._

 _Henry will be alright_

 _He'll be alright_

 _He'll be alright_

 _He'll be_ — _" **Ah!** "_ A branch hits her in the face.

 _He'll be alright_

 _He'll be alright_

 _All right_

 _He'll be alrig—_ **|-/**


	20. Chapter 20

It's 4 o'clock in the middle of the night and she can't sleep. Eyes perceive nothing but the pitch black ceiling while feeling every few second the sting of staying awake and the ache of keeping them wide open. Trying to count the tiles was difficult, but manageable if they squinted hardly at moments. Okay, say maybe not pitch blackness engulfing into their corneas, but the playfulness of the dark. You know, where one eye with the other close sees something close to nothing, then the other with the first shut sees something a bit brighter. Tricks. The common enemy of the eye was the tricks it was pestered with. And with the lack of sleep they were getting, anything was acceptable to take the spotlight to cause despair.

Jay— Emma— Regina— could not sleep or just relax for the life of themselves.

One was anxious and fearing for something to go awry—to be snatched by the ankle and ripped from their bed. One was feeling a miscible feeling of emotions drowning within her causing breathing problems. And the other was worrying from what they were feeling and sensing that all isn't what it seems to be.

* * *

 _Please don't move. Please don't move. Please don't move. Please don't make any sudden moves. Please don't. Just don't. Please do not move. Do Not. Please, just please don't. I pray to thee to keep still please._

 _Inhale…._ She heartily whiffed in the explosive scent of her safe haven thus causing her nerves to diffuse the tweaking they were happily commencing. Smells are funny. They're interesting too, right? You know there are the—the floral scents that cause your eyes to loll. Scents like those make you feel alive, on top of the world, as if lightning has struck you and given you the ability to-to-to—

 _Exhale…._ She released a humongous breath of air causing her to feel the indescribable emotions babbling within her chest having a grand time. Every cheer, toast, and clinking of their glasses was a plethora of a certain emotion mapping over her chest. Anxiety is taking speech right now. _"And it is to my great honor for these few seconds to take hold over our host. To make her feel all the types of inner turmoil plaguing her and fidget her excitingly_— _"_

 _Inhale…._ Envision swirls going up her nose of the citrus scent belonging to the scarf helping her out some. Because it did—anxiety was gone now. What took root was excitement. Excitement of the day beginning soon, to move from this bed, to talk to anybody else but _him_ , to see another day have at it what her and Henry are trying to rebuild. Speaking with Jay again is in the category too. She was fun, someone great to have around her and Henry, someone to—

 _Exhale_ …. Grudgingly excitement left and dread plummeted in. The massive feeling has now inadvertently headed straight for the iceberg and is now sinking. Wallowing into the dark depths of the pitch black water that will now engulf her is the becoming emotion fear. It surges all within her now claiming predominant victory that it has now rooted in place and ascended the throne. Clearly the subjects are the more delightful feelings that seldom make notice to Emma. Although, what is it that she fears?

Eyes voluntarily roll over to the lump next to them. The pirate's hand is mere inches away from touching the blonde woman's leg. Her whole frame is stiff at the precipice of the bed, occasionally teetering off and on. He on the other hand is that of a bear rug spread out on the bed, ignorant on how distraught his wife is. Ignorant on a red faced Emma holding her breath to the point of weariness swimming in her head. Ignorant that she is paralyzed with fear keeping her body stagnant. Blatantly unaware she is clutching onto the scarf with acute agility of an eagle's talons while her arm locks and strains. Incognizant that she is silently screaming on the inside of the burning inferno happening in her chest with the lack of air whisking in.

 _Breathe Emma._

Although, what is it that she fears?

 **Emma:** _Dying!_

 _Then breathe._

 **Emma:** _I can't!_

 _You won't._

 **Emma:** _No, no I can't! I-I want to but I a-also want to see Regina._

 _So you think dying will help you out?! Strangling yourself by holding your breath?! That's the cowardice way to go. You are a strong woman who knows the proper way to go out, so act like one! Don't you dare cause you this pain just to leave Henry!_

 **Emma:** _I can't, I can't._ She is mindfully crying to herself of her weakness.

 _Dammit, get a grip of yourself! Breath Emma, breathe._

 **Emma:** _I-I ca—, I just ca—_

 _Emma, breathe. …Okay, just keep doing it._

The room—such a perfect display of quiet—absorbs the sounds of gulps of air being taken in with sporadic and continual coughing fits. It can also see that of a frantically raising chest.

 _Breathe, Emma. Just Breathe,_ … _breathe._

The blonde woman, the Savior…, _Emma,_ could be heard taking in the required breaths as she allows tears to glide down her face while thinking over her cowardice from having a panic attack. And then her trying to make that lead to her death just to hopefully see Regina again. What was she thinking?

She wants Regina, that's what she was thinking. This scarf was giving her something not even a dream could capture. It was giving her a piece of Her majesty, something the closest Emma will ever get to. And it should make her happy, oh so wonders happy and content to where she feels she has her own personal piece—her own chess piece, the Queen—to secretly call her own. But it does nothing of that. Instead…, instead it just brings her sorrow and waves of pain that she keeps drowning in.

Bringing the scarf to her nose and reveling in the scent is the spark ignited, the excitement someone feels rile up inside them awaiting the fireworks to go boom and the drops of color to canvas the midnight sky. And then to see those colors starting to descend from the early heavens down to Earth looking like a shower of paint that disappears along its way. It's awing, the color that sprays the sky, and that's what Emma feels while lolling her eyes from the scent of the scarf, but just like the color starting to descend is when the drowning feelings invade.

Choking on nothing is what she feels that with a drilling ache thumping away in her head…. And it just won't leave her the hell alone! She rubs at it, she takes pills for it, wallows in the dark for it, escapes reality for about 4 hours for it (sleeps), does almost anything for it to subside just for a period of time. And what is her reward for it? Drowning. Breathing problems. Invasive thoughts. All these socializing within her with their stupid name tags and their plastic cups talking about politics and such. Only then for them to later stand at the podium and express their problems—her problems—and why they're at this 'meeting'. So it's only understandable why she wouldn't want to continue with this feeling anymore. It's pestering, bothering, annoying as hell, with the only route out from this drowning is to drown herself; deprive herself air and to strangle in these overbearing feelings chatting inside her, for her to get the last ha! and make peace in the afterlife. It made sense… right?

Right?

 _No_

 _Yes_

 _No_

 _It has to_

 _It doesn't, you're making an excuse, finding a way out even._

 _No it—_

Snatching her attention suddenly was Killian turning in his sleep and inching closer to Emma than she deemed acceptable. Like natural, she easily teetered off the bed bringing her pillow and scarf down and tugging on a sheet that was lounging on a nearby chair. She could care less on how the scene depicted of her husband reaching out for something—that being her—and she on the floor finding solitude with the dust bunnies.

On many things that just accounted, she did resolved on one thing:

Regina was right… _I am a coward._

* * *

 _Ok, anything in the closet?_

"No, no, no."

 _What about bathroom, what's going on in there?_

"Last of what I remember for the umpteenth time was that it was pretty empty."

 _Under the bed, what's with that?_

Regina rolled onto her side off the edge of the bed and, palms flat and body stiff and push-up position on the floor, craned her head and roved her eyes for anything unwelcome beneath her royal sized bed. The scene would've been seen something silly if not for the intense concern etched on the Queen's features. She was honestly looking for something to go bump-in-the-night. Hands were tingling with the familiar sensation of a fireball readying to appear and blast at the enemy. That's how on alert she was.

"Under the bed is clear."

Stalking legs raised the Queen along with her eyes scanning every corner of the room just expecting something to reveal itself all haughtily. A resigned sigh releases as Regina comes to terms that there is definitely and definitively nothing in her room. She easily slides back into the bed regaining her position.

It takes some time, but she has it again.

She links her dainty fingers over her chest concentrating on the buzzing feeling happening within her. It reminds her of the motor going on as she would sit in her car waiting for the light to turn green. Hums emitting from the vehicle always in some way soothed her. And now as she lies in her bed counting the tiles on the ceiling and centralizes on the motor happening within her, she can conclude the feeling making notice is anxiety. Though, she already knew that, right?

"Right," she faintly whispers to no one.

Rimmed eyes stare blankly at nothing as Regina goes over to herself of different motors that men seem to be fascinated with. Despite her not having any knowledge really on motors, she does have a clear idea of the vehicles that resided in her town. From having to repeat, or witness the repetitious day that happened for 28 years, it's safe to assume she has knowledge on almost every vehicle in StoryBrooke.

She thinks to herself that this active thinking will just result in another mechanism of counting sheep, sooner—hopefully—or later she'll dream. Dream of a turquoise Toyota a farmer owns; dream of the ruby red corvette Ms. Lucas owns; dream of her precious black Mercedes. Actually, her car isn't atrocious as the rest of the residents' cars. A plain example being Mary Margaret's station wagon. Or that truck-practically-a-hearse of David's. Or even that—

 _Don't go there_

…death on wheels contraption—

 _You're better than this_

Yellow bug. _Emma's_ bug.

 _Cue the emotions._

Regina's face contorts to frustration that she's allowing herself to run down this road again. Thinking of Emma—just the name alone—pang the Queen's heart. To herself only will she admit that she misses her friend. The goofy smile that showed on her face and lighted up Regina's spirits unintentionally, or the GMO products the blonde would scarf down _—"Bear claw? That's an artery attack you're eating there." Stern glare. "Don't care." Bites into pastry and talks with a full mouth, "at least I'm not anal on what goes in my body your majesty."_ —ok, that's an insult to Granny, but all the while it's still an unhealthy food choice.

However, she pursed her lips, the only time Emma actually expressed this normal behavior was before she honestly started dating the pirate.

Sculptured brows furrowed at the thought.

The one-handed wonder seemed to suck the life force out of Emma on a constant, and it surely did not go unnoticed. By her that is, the others? There's no telling if Snow's infamous intuitive instincts kicked in hinting at something wrong with Emma. And there was evidently something wrong with her.

Waves of guilt started to crash at the brunette for not voicing the obvious indolent and depressed behavior her friend was giving off. Whenever Emma was around Killian she would attempt her hardest to perk up around him, and more than not she succeeded. But when he wasn't around and she was around everyone else, including her and Henry, Emma gave off such sluggish behavior. Regina knew it wasn't anything wrong she or the Charmings were doing, it was the fact that Emma felt only relieved around certain others; moreover, it meant that the wasted energy she was giving off to her boyfriend that was reserved for her family and friends was replaced with meek moods.

Ranting thoughts came to an abrupt halt from another voice. _So… what you are saying is that Emma is bored by you?_

"No."

 _But is that not what you basically thought? Emma feels comfortable around others, more so the daft pirate than her own son, parents, or even you. How clear can it not be?_

Annoyance hurriedly flickers on Regina's face. "How convoluted are your words? What I am merely saying—or rather thinking—is that the common behavior everyone's use to Emma expressing has been replaced with a downcast mood. She uses the little energy she has for Hook to make _him_ happy, then shows how she really feels to the rest of us."

 _How do you know if that's what she really feels around you? For all you know she really is fed up with you lot and is actually in misery. It's Hook that she wants than you. If she could she would've eschewed the rest of you. _

Linked, manicured fingers untangle themselves and fervently grip the duvet resting on the Queen's chest. An itching sensation is taking root center palmed with the essence of magic. Fire is groaning to come to life. As much as Regina wants to conjure a fireball in nick of time, there isn't anybody to hurl it at but her. She needs to stay strong and not fall whim to this voice—to her voice.

"I know her; I know Emma. It definitely is not Hook she wants or even needs for the matter. It's acceptance and unconditional love. Both she has yet to become accustomed with, especially on such a personal level."

Throbs of irritation were starting to pulse at Regina's temples.

 _Are you even certain about that? Miss Swan is probably more than aware of the acceptance and love her family offers freely her way. Maybe it's just you she isn't nor even wants to become accustomed to with. You are a complicated person, Regina. Nobody seems to understand us, and so why should it start with the Savior?_

You know what, she's probably right, Regina sums. Emma did literally travel hell and back just to rescue a man she barely dated for half a year. He may had died an unfortunate death, but it served him right after he tried to banish them eternity to the Underworld. But is that worth rescuing someone over? To rescue them from a mess they caused in the first place?

 _No._ "Yes."

 _No it's not, Regina._

The brunette chuckled at the thought. "Yes it is. I caused a ten year mess in the Enchanted Forest just to see Snow's head on a stake. Then I tacked on 28 more from a curse. Yet, I was given a second chance, so…"

 _So here you are, dead. Separated from your soulmate, from a sister you made amends with and barely had a chance to get to know, separated from a son, separated from a life you had yet to live fully with happiness and sweet promises. You won't get to see Henry grow up—_

"Stop"

 _See him graduate, get married, have a sight of your first grandchild, become a successful and intelligent man. See the same for Roland, for his sister_ — _your niece. All the ones you love are gone, moving on even. You are forgotten about Regina. They are probably celebrating the death of the Evil Queen, or just yourself in general. Spitting on your grave and dancing and defiling on it. Treating it like a wasteland. That is what it has more than likely come to, Regina. No one cares for you anymore._

Glistening tears were welling in the eyes of her majesty. Arduous tries were being made at holding back outburst sobs to wanting to give out. It felt like she was keeping something heavy in her throat that added pressure the longer held. The longer held, the more concentrated it became. (You know the feeling of a burning throat that aches wanting to let a cry or more loose, but you're keeping up appearance for those around until privacy shows? Until then it just feels like an anvil it shoving away in your throat and your chest is forcibly constricting getting tauter by the second. It might as well be water at its highest pressure beating away on your skin.)

"Go to hell!" she croaks laced with raw pain while craning her neck up. Yelling it at everybody and nobody.

"Already there, Regina. It's time you come to reality. You've done too much bad stuff in your life to be fully relieved in death." That voice…

Eyes widen with fear that of a prey as Regina looks directly at the silhouette standing across from her at the foot of the bed. About 6 feet tall, sort of rounded in the body, could be anybody. But that isn't the aspect that jolts her eyes and causes her to whimper and shake her head defiantly. It's the voice. His voice— _Leopold's_ voice.

The man was a pure shadow, no face recognition or physical attributes but just the shape of his frame. What was more fearing was the disdainful smell of pungent alcohol slamming Regina's nostrils only causing more head shakes of denial to be the only movements of the Queen. Then it was the dip of the bed that snapped Regina out of the haze she was trapped in, that and the stalking predator crawl he was doing. No face was needed to know the exact look aimed toward her.

That anvil of emotions she was battling had fled and all but left anxiety, dread, and fear to fend for themselves, to fend for her. Similar these three feelings definitely are, carried nothing but the weight of a dump truck pinning all over Regina. She was trapped—no not trapped, _paralyzed_. There was nothing but a bothering pulse going on at her throat and the sound of something flooding within her. The roars of blood it was. She tried to swallow, but couldn't.

As forever as it took, it didn't. In a flash the shadow—Leopold—made a jump at her that shook the wakening scream out of her that was tinged in a cry, plead, and surprised gasp. Her legs were instantly pinned by his weight from its futile attempt to escape but instead getting more tangled within the sheets. Her back barely met with the headboard as she continued to scream for him to get off her while flailing her hands fervently at him. Pure guttural pleads coming out of her mouth to stop from the impending truth to come.

Quickly her hand was grasped by his clammy one and forced back where it felt it was sprained. Useless was it to call forth her magic given that it runs on emotion, but she tried. Consequently things were starting to fling across the room. Problem was she couldn't pinpoint it directly to defend herself cos of her radical feelings.

What were the final seconds falling by the grain followed with her other hand being caught and instantly adjoined with the first while feeling something rough and itchy wrapped around it. Rope.

"NO! No, no, nonononono!" Her eyes were puffy, nose an allergy red and running, and cheeks wet. She tried to jerk her whole torso to the side to at least squirm her way out, but instead it gave a better advantage to the shadow—no, _Leopold_.

Everything is becoming a blur with just him in front of her and things whirring all over the room seemingly avoiding the two from knocking them out, mainly him.

She closes her eyes and counts to 5 for it to be over, or offer some kind of relief as she feels the bed shift to his liking as she's forced underneath him.

1…

Her voice is so hoarse she can't scream, it's gravel now; she's choking on dry swallows.

2…

Eyes are irritated to the point where a bottle of eye drops couldn't revert the damage.

3…

Her body is still fighting as it contorts this way and that to at least make it difficult for him to commence frisking her for his pleasure.

4…

She manages to spit in his face, the little of what she had left that is, but all the while worth it.

"5…"

Is what she strangles out as she flutters her eyelids open seeing an impeccable room of hers with herself lying face up, fingers linked, counting the indiscernible tiles on the ceiling thinking over the nightmare she must've had.

* * *

 _Henry_ _:_ really..? _11:58 pm_

 _Jay_ _:_ Mm...yea, it was cool _11:59_

 _Henry:_ **:-D** _11:59_

 _Henry:_ **…** _12:01 am_

 _Jay:_ ? _12:03_

…

 _Jay:_ wut? _12:08_

 _Henry:_ …r u mad at me? _12:10_

 _Henry:_ we haven't been hangin alot l8ly, so i just thought… _12:11_

 _Jay:_ I've been busy _12:16_

 _Henry:_ like? _12:16_

 _Jay:_ school, responsibility, stuff _12:22_

 _Jay:_ listen, i gtg. I really need that beauty sleep ;-) _12:25_

…

 _Henry:_ Yeah, have a restful night…. Dream of me ;-) _12:35_

 _Jay:_ If I wanna have a nightmare 2nite then yea i'll do that. Night Hershey _12:36_

 _Henry:_ Can't be saying such things if u callin me sweet treats _12:36_

 _Jay:_ not lest u're indulging them l8 at night thus causing scary dreams _12:37_

 _Henry:_ w/ what? A chainsaw? _12:37_

 _Jay:_ more like an intense game of tag… Night H _12:39_

 _Henry:_ sounds fun! Ttyl J …right? ;-) _12:40_

 **~Cfys~**

Thought process for 1 AM: _sounds fun! …right?_

2 AM: _fun… right?_

3 AM: _we're gonna talk later… right?_

Now: _… **right?**_

 _It's not wrong that I didn't text back, right? It's not wrong that I didn't respond…, right? It's not wrong. Right?_

Letting the phone drop with a clank and forcing herself to regain the comfort she had yet to accomplish, Jay bores eyes back onto the ceiling. Her eyes are wide open in the night with thoughts racing a mile a sec with incomprehensible thoughts and then some. _sounds fun! Ttyl J ...right? ;-)_ Right—well of course she'll get back to him. Why not? They're friends, buddies even. Why would she not want to talk to her friend?

"I mean…," she squints thoughtfully, "psh!" Why is she even thinking into this?

"Why am I even thinking of this?!"

An irritated Jay swiftly rolls onto her side while aggressively beating the pillow to allow some form of comfort to make notice. "There…," she mindfully voices.

All she is thinking, or letting flit, are thoughts that she'll barely remember within a few seconds that will just lead to sleep.

 _…r-e-m sleep… what does that stand for? Is that even a thing? Nooo… no. definitely not, nu-uh. Nope, nada… mmn-mnh… huh?_ (She frowns, eyes still closed) _No it's spelled m-n space h-m—no, that's not it… m-m-_ _ **h**_ _, yea—_ _ **nope**_ _, that's not it either._ _M-…n-h space m-n-h… twice, right? Right._

"Not," she mutters.

 _M-n-…m space h-m…._ (A sharp breath is inhaled) _No, that's not right. Okay, the opposite of 'mhmm'. Um… 'uh-uh' or 'nu-uh' those are two, so the other must be spelled m-n-h_ _ **space**_ _m-n… don't say it\- aaaaaa—come on, don't—ch _

"Dammit!" she grunts in frustration kicking out her legs and throwing her arms.

 _M-n—no! M-n—no! M-n— **ugh!**_

She growls. "Ok, ok… calm breaths, Bexton."

She thinks over the next with certainty and conviction. _M-n-h **space** m-n—_

" **Gah!** "

A face with bloodshot eyes and an intense look of exasperation is sketched on Jay's face as she shoots up and out the bed and rakes her hair repeatedly. The moonlight is barely silvering in while Jay paces carefully around the dark room going through the whirlwind of emotions taking refuge in her.

Why should she deserve a goodnight's rest?—"I shouldn't!" There were horrid things done by her, because of her even, and yet this total stranger who has no idea—"That I beat his ass!"—is doubtful that herself will contact him back?

Hands furiously rub at her eyes and only agitate them more. Jay stops all sudden movement and continues from there.

 _I beat him_ _…_ _mercilessly a-and freakin' left him on his own and_ _…_ _and_ _…_

"Calm down! Calm the hell down!" She stretches out her hand to halt the disarraying thoughts whizzing past her mind. Only this supposed tactic does nothing but worsen it.

Voices in her head and spoken aloud are getting tangled in a cobweb. "Oh my god, _oh my…._ " She rests her hands on her knees while fruitlessly steadying her breath.

 _I beat him. I beat him and left him and befriend him? I freakin' befriend the person I'm somehow supposed to corrupt? To-to-… what am I doing?!_ "Does he even deserve this?"

Her haste pacing takes control once more with racing breaths tagging in. The room is beginning to close in and she is becoming overheated. Fanning herself with her shirt is barely helping.

 _No, he doesn't_

"But it's orders. It's orders, I follow my instructions, I follow him. Yeah, yeah. That's exactly what I do, that's what I need to do, not forget—don't forget!"

 _Don't forget what? Why are you even doing this?_

"Because… because he accepts me. H-he gives me a purpose."

On some level we are terrified of what others might deem of us other than the single individual that has accepted us wholly. Why try and seek someone else's approval of ourselves when there is more than a chance being rejected? Should we even try and endure the thought of us feeling that we're unworthy to be noticed or befriended in a way that makes us feel special? No, we should not cos it will hurt more when the opportunity comes to show. So instead we stay with the person(s) that does accept us—that is if you're lucky enough to have that someone—but are too blind to witness that some of the people we stick with are parasites to us.

A sheen of sweat with beads rolling down her face has Jay thinking for a second that she is silently crying. Immediately she pushes the thought away already settling on her conviction that she doesn't cry. Never did, never will. But that doesn't mean that she isn't prone to feeling stuff. And more than evidently she is feeling guilt for her whole relationship with Henry—she doesn't deserve it. Overall she finds that she loathes the feeling and needs to escape it, mask it with another, or ultimately just feel nothing. You see, there's this daunting knot called 'emotion' that's making her feel intense things aching her internally. The more it aches, the more she succumbs to it. And as she succumbs to it she loses a sight of herself. She's not functional… she's not welcomed. Moreover, she's… shunned. Who wants something that's broken? Not everyone can be as lucky as a chipped cup, y'know.

But what can she do to still her pumping heart? What can she do to daze her whirlpool mind? Is there a way to make her forget momentarily? A way to… _escape_?

She needs to drown—needs something to pull her down and remind her why she is doing this. What the little light flickering in the chaos mean. That or altogether just forget this time, right now, quickly.

Vacant is her mind while her ears listen to the soft creaks the floorboards beneath her are groaning as she follows route to the bathroom. Nothing is occupying her mind and she wants it this way, needs it this way.

Water rushing out the faucet in the tub provides the white background noise she needs as her hands rummage in a kitchen cabinet for the strongest, common vice needed. She's unaware that a few things have knocked over and caused shattered, jagged pieces on the floor. Jagged pieces that poke intently at her feet expelling the red tragedies she's seconds away from tainting.

There is no light that she has to close; her vision is inherited for the darkness that looms around. Ideas to take a cup are already disregarded as she steps carefully into the bathtub with the ice water a good few inches filled as she submerges into it.

The frigid water is now warming from the temp of her skin that was furiously heating minutes prior. Worries not does she. No, cos the alcohol, the… (she glances at the label) After Shock bottle she's already consuming swig after swig will keep her insides warm while her outside, her skin, becomes corpse like.

She's still sweating, still panicking of the things to come. Things that she does not know yet. Chasing thoughts that won't connect until it happens at an awakening moment.

Until then, she'll drink herself to oblivion and drown herself to unconsciousness as she counts the ceiling's tiles.

* * *

 **So…** _take_ _heed to this random, but then not, **TW**._ I cannot lowkey urge enough as I type this without giving anything up—believe me, I'm conflicted. You'll know when, and when do, don't 4get it's a story (I know I do, and if I can, then you must). And if u're "triggered" _don't_ take it out on the review box, either PM ur thoughts, or naturally meditate to alleviate any unwanted tension. My stories will do this to u if it's any help and forewarning.

•Technically this was supposed to be chp 12; yet, it didn't make sense to include it then and truthfully was a filler chp, but overall manifested Constellations. Now though, it fits perfectly! —also, I didn't want to waste it; I worked hard on it… sort of. More about my brainstorming process concerning this story later on, cos well… u'll see. Remember, please, that everything I do is for reason, and I'm sure y'all inferred there's a bit ooc development, like Henry and etc. [A bit? Chink u—] Hush, I got this. [But—] Nah man, I got it. [Got what?] Milk. Cos I'm 'bout to udder this— _woof_.

•That said Synnies, I want to give a _sincere_ and _profound_ **Thank You** for sticking w/ me thru all this still; we've come a decent way for a story this magnitude w/ most of y'all (I think) not discarding it for some "justified" reason et it means much to me. Seriously, u Assassins are spectacular et I only hope u stick w/ me for rest to come—this story and an interesting more to follow.


	21. Chapter 21

"Remember when the air had this dreariness to it with the sky a melancholic grey, and the idlest of clouds sweeping by as if the world was on the verge of mourning? No? Oh, come on! You have to remember the… the weather… ooh! Let me put it this way: recall you as a child just eager to play with your new, polished toy in the clement weather, when suddenly dark clouds rumbling start rolling in from nowhere. From such high hopes and expectations you only just had, now comes forth feelings of dejection and disappointment and utter resentment. Your dismal feelings from within are shown through your slumped posture and vacant stare through your window at the grey horizon of your boring resident street—casting a shadow of gloom as the pestering rain prevents your cherished playtime, your freedom. That… that is what today feels like! Yes, yes it's absolutely invigorating in some unlovely manner I cannot explain, _but oh the wonders of today that can be wrought!_

"Listen! Listen… do you hear it? Do you hear the whispers of the wind in the distance? Or the howling of the air from its bitterness? Or perchance the brevity of Gaea's breath against that whistling trash can? No? Ah, you don't know. Well then, close your eyes and count to ten, that is if you can; before then I expect you to have extract a sound so soothing and relaxing that your heart beats along to it as one. What? Still naught? Ay, do not worry my friend… I conjecture it isn't your time. Fear not, though…, at the most unexpected time you will feel at peace and one with the greatest enigma around us…, nature!"

* * *

~PART I~

* * *

 _When your feeling dark and stormy, let me sing a song for you…_

If she keeps thinking this over then she can't run, and if she can't run then she won't breathe, hence fainting. So why the hell would she want to keep thinking this? You can't keep thinking this, that's the thing. Keep thinking this and you'll reveal something that shouldn't come to light. Keep heading in the direction of this then unfortunately the upside down will become the true reality. Keep following this then—

"Stop! Stop… _stop._ " A detective hung up on a case inevitably leads up to something disarraying; however, an ignorant one is more prone to fault from every facet.

"Or…," her hands carefully turn the picture, "I could just tell him…. I can—" _Ludi-fuckin'-crous, Swan! You can't just load **that** on him!_

"No… no that won't work. But maybe I can tell—" _No one!_

"But he'll—" _Never understand! You can't tell anyone. It's you or Henry._

"…Or it can be neither…. Our relationship can still be salvaged. I can still be his—" Emma's words jumble on her tongue as she scrutinizes on the faint writing on the back of the picture, "…mother." But that term lacks the intended endearment when she focuses on letters 'JB' scribbled in the bottom corner. _A signature?_

 _No more than minutes ago_ did Emma Swan stop her sporadic jog to catch the dim gleam that caught her eye, moreover the object later in her hand. The gloomy weather seemed to stimulate her mood, hence offering an excuse for both to 'mingle'. She lets the harsh air cool her skin while in return victimizes herself to the droll ambiance humming. Hardly a soul was outside, which made the jog all the more worth while, even to the point when she considered going on the path close to the woods. This then led her to the scenic route littered with barren trees barely protecting her from the seaside wind with the random scurrying of a squirrel.

'All seems to be fair,' one may say concerning the day thus far, but that's only regarding the tangible. The weather, squirrel, and likes didn't impend Emma's way on her jog, but rather her marathon thoughts. Thoughts too repetitive and jarring to keep singly replaying them on her phonographic mind. Each thought was scratched and tampered with enough to be deemed as a collector's item rather than the other way around. To go over them is to basically tire herself out, and this run is suppose to do the opposite. A heaving chest and burning rib-cage is a much better alternative than focusing on scratched thoughts.

Yet only if those scratched thoughts could be further mutilated into oblivion where nothing's recognizable, she had thought, would be everything. Though, a reality where all her problems are non-existent wasn't even her next go-to thought before that mentioned gleam caught her eye, discoursing her jog. Rather than the picture faced up, it was actually the back that initially took her attention with a message reading, _'Continue forth the investigation and this will become your reality,'_ reacted by not a gasp, nor a scream, but a very genuine baffled face and skipping thoughts. That tune she tried to ignore wanted to be heard, yet through a more expressive way, and here it is before her eyes as she turns the picture over.

Beautiful, marvelous, exquisite are words chosen for such fine art, but none, not even a word, captured the freight of feelings crashing into Emma's faint heart. Unfortunately, that same heart was fault to her skipping thoughts making nonsense, since it was failing to course blood to her brain. Although, blaming an organ for improperly functioning isn't par for Emma Swan. Technically it is herself, she is her own impediment, and because of so she is preventing herself air from this breathtaking picture of her. In fact, a faint was due—faint of heart—that she indeed almost acted upon, holding for dear life on the nearest tree.

Following her tree hugging was a racketing round of applaud from her heart for her sharp intake of breath. Elating her further was the swimming sensation in her head adding more to the dysphoria, giving her fifteen second stardom of damsel in distress—though, presumably and figuratively, she doesn't need a male hero, so really _fifteen second stardom of coward in distress_ was her role. The cherry on top would have been for Rumpel to appear, like her Dark One days, and be a cameo.

 _Cowardice: They do it right_ 👌

A swaying stomach and looping thoughts urged that desire to vomit. If only she had eaten before the run could she then withstand buckling knees, a sheen of sweat only a Bounty towel could absorb, and a burning esophagus rivaling a smoker's cough. Forever she has had this feeling to expel something she knows is vile within her but has never had an excuse for it, and the idea of making herself wretch wasn't a solution she was willing to do.

So there she was for an enduring minute in a purgatory between hot-n-cold flashes and looping thoughts, looking emptily at her surroundings before glimpsing at the picture.

 _Now though, minutes after,_ Emma looks squarely at the picture calculating her next move—seemingly a game she didn't know was in session nor apart of.

And what could it be? In a predicament like this, what can possibly be her next move? She's stuck… in a fixed position… checkmate!

"This… this has to be a dream. No way is this happening." Her eyes roamed wanting to bear witness with anyone. "I can… I'm dreaming," she firmly nods. "I'm dreaming and this isn't real, so I'm just going to rip this apart and—" _Voila! You're too chicken to rip the picture._

"No, no, no. I should burn it. Th-that's it. Burning… burning will solve this problem." _In Hell. Your problems will vanish when you're in Hell. Burn baby, burn!_

Emma fidgets with the lighter in her sickly pale hand and has trouble flicking it on. It must be out. _You know that isn't it…_

"Shush, it's… it's the wind." The air was perfectly still. "C'mon, light dammit!" _Honestly this is good acting you're doing. Almost have **me** fooled—oh, wait…_

"Gah! Fuck it! Just—" she chucks her flimsy Bic lighter yonder. "I can… okay. I can… okay. _I can okay?_ That doesn't even make sense!" Another snide thought was making headway until she interrupts. "No, no. I can 'okay!' I can… I can OKAY. Okay? Okay." She avidly nods. "Just resume your jog Emma and okay-ness will envelop you, okay? Okay." _Don't… don't keep saying it._ "Okay… _okay_." She keeps nodding, working herself up to pick up where she left off.

And where did she left off? She left off on rotary thoughts. Looping thoughts that is, thoughts regarding—

"Okayity. I left off on the tepid feeling of okayity… or okayness. You're okay Emma, you're okay. Fine even." She chuckles at the word.

Mere seconds thinking over her newfound word's definition surely didn't prompt her on the vibration her phone buzzed, causing her to jump like a startled gazelle and notice the quivers of her intestines. Okayity has yet to encompass her it seems.

Checking her phone with great hesitance as if it was a bomb, Emma sees a text from Killian. _Please no nude photos. Fingers crossed no nude photos._

Or worse! Another pic of her s— _"'So what's for dinner?'"_

 _Dinner?_ "Dinner. Whew!" An airy chuckle, very shaky at that, deflates her. She texts back saying anything he wants is fine, then hunches over catching her breath. She has to let the torrents of her stomach reduce before she can let the flow of okayity course through her. Just the thought of languid, fluid movement belonging to the word's meaning and feeling was enough to stabilize herself and mimic that thought into her jog. An okayity jog… a jokayity! Again this makes her chuckle from its nonsense.

 _Hey, you know what's a '_ _jokayity?' You._ Her face scrunches from where this is heading. _Yeah, because it has the prefix 'jok-' which is notably in the word 'joke,' that of which you are. And it's totally base since you just laughed from its nonsense, acknowledging that it is nonsense. Haha, nonsense things are funny, especially cos it's not a real word. Hahaha. That means you made it up, and you know why you did that? You know where this nonsense word's origin comes from? From you not acknowledging the picture of your suicide on it. Hahaha. So funny._

"…"

 _Ha-freakin'-ha. LOL even!_

Her jog stops and eyes widen.

 _You're not okay._ "I'm not okay." _Far from._ "Lord help me." _Haha! That's funny—nope, we're on our own. But it's okay… the tepid feeling of okayity will envelop you. Just in the form of alcohol._

"And self-deprecation…." _And self_ — _ **hey!** I'm gettin' the hang of this. It seems you have a rational mentality when despaired_ — _active at that, too._

Drearily shuffling herself over to the nearest bench with such 'fluid' mobility, Emma sits and stares off in the distance. The weather must be mustering a storm, that or she's really seeing the world before her in the tone she feels.

So someone knows she killed herself.

Someone is watching her and her every move, not only putting her in danger, but her family as well.

A harmless investigation of her son's jumper and her hypothetical 'murderer' is actually an obstruction to someone else's agenda, given from the direct threat on the picture, _'Continue forth the investigation and this will become your reality.'_

"But why wouldn't they want to be caught? What did they do?" _Why do they feel the need to have leverage with a picture? Why did his jumper return?_

"And for what purpose? Oh this isn't good." She tucks her head between her legs, but they're jutting too wildly. "What can…," she helplessly looks around and fails to rake her hair cos it's put away. "I-I can't, I can't—" her agitation is only sharpening and her movement becoming antsy. "I need to… I just—I just—I just—"

 _She needs to run_ , and if she keeps thinking this over she can't run, and if she can't run she won't breathe, hence fainting. So why the hell would she want to keep thinking this? You can't keep thinking this, that's the thing! Keep thinking this and you'll reveal something that shouldn't come to light! Keep heading in this direction then the upside down will become the true reality! _Keep following this then—_

"I need a drink! I-I need a run and I need a drink. Okay?! Just run, Swan. Okayity is in a beer at home. Run and… run and, uh, drink. Drink! Run and drink. Run _to_ drink!" Her legs take their own volition as her mind continuously loops over:

 _Run to drink_  
 _Run to drink_  
 _Run to drink…_

* * *

"Remember when those eyes were harsher than a desert storm as her tired irises dazzled brilliantly than a sea of sand? They were such full of wonder and spontaneity of a child that it was futile to look away from such doe eyes. But then… she hid them. She hid them and it split my heart she done that. Instead her eyes were subjected to the polarity of sunglasses, and although the frame accentuated her obvious beauty, it didn't hide the sadness that flashed quicker than the eye. And the fact that she hid them because she was ashamed of herself just anguished me. How dare she try and avert my gaze to the most capturing irises yet seen, in trade for the burgeoning pain humming within her.

Yet…, if she feels this so adamantly, wouldn't I be able to see it through our unobstructed gaze? If she feels it so adamantly, would it be ideal to let her be?

Or would it be self-centered of me to indulge my adoration of everything about her—dewy eyes and all…?"

⇐•⇒

Jay Bexton… "Don't…" was feeling— "just stop."

"Huh?"

"Nothing…," she huffs out, agitation entwining with smoke.

"You know," starts her brunet friend, "that those kill."

"Yeah, nothing like starting the day off with intense heartburn leading to cancer, am I right?"

"Heartburn?"

"Dunno how that stuff works Henry," she lies as she lights another cigarette, but has trouble with the lighter.

"Well I read somewhere that smoking usually leads to holes in your face." He comes up with a lighter of his own—"Don't ask"—and holds it steady for Jay while trying to peek over her sunglasses. They look nice on her, he thinks, and keenly defines her features.

"Yeah," she mutters, peeking at him as well. "What else you read?"

"Oh nothing worrying y'know… just other stuff saying mini guys controlling your life whenever, peeling skin, creeper jeepers jumping out your pack, and a usb mouth."

"Hmm, so lowkey stuff?"

"Mmm, and regrets, with tar in your lungs."

"Gotta love that black goop, Henry. It's what makes us, us." She takes a long drag.

"What, tar?"

"No, regrets," she simply says with a stream of smoke hitting Henry's face, him scrunching.

"Come on, you know Emma's gonna raise brows." He waffs the air, too.

"Then move," Jay challenges.

"No," he skeptically replies. _What is with her?_

"So…"

"So?"

"You grew."

"Uh…"

"You're taller."

"Um, no…? It's only been two weeks since we've actually hung together. Already you're forgetting me?" He chuckles with a smirk, ignoring the uneasiness rocking in him.

"Oh," is all she says as she ashes her cig before going in for another pull. "It only felt like a few days."

 _Ouch_ , constricts Henry's chest. "Yeah, guess time's past you, huh?"

"Hm?"

"Well, erm… cos y'know?" he hints. Compared to the weather, it's a sauna steaming in his jacket, especially the longer she awaits his added response. "You know, cos there's no time where you're from and… I was—I was also doing a time pun."

"Oh, clever." She turns away for a pull.

With her back turned, Henry deflates a bit and fans himself trying to feel the chill of the air. He's never felt so anxious around Jay before, so why now?

"So you and Ahijah, how's that faring?" lolls her head as she ambles, her ears ready for whatever.

"Um, uh…"

She stomps on the burnt out cigarette and brings out a new one. "I know that he's been unavailable for a bit."

 _How does she make smoking look cool?_ "Uh, fine I guess?" He leans on the bridge wall. "You?"

"I've been better," she mutters as she, too, leans on the stone and reviews the steady stream trickling below the Toll Bridge.

A distant agreement hums from Henry as he drops his head while also picking a spot to blankly stare at, too. It's weird how blasé his friend is acting suddenly. Not that she was always expectantly erratic, but between the two of them it was usually Jay that leveled the mood for the both. Thinking about it, she's been acting pretty off since the day they were detouring for their study session. Was it because he openly talked to her about his feelings about the warehouse incident? _Or maybe because I denied her offer on running away together?_ Whatever the case, Henry wasn't all that eased thinking that his friend's malaise derived from him. If Jay's hurting then why won't she just confide? Are they not to that point in their relationship yet?

"Hey, so what's up with you? Real talk."

" _…real talk…,_ " the brunette mutters with a small smirk— _He sounds cute_. "Uhhh, I dunno." She loosely shrugs. "Truthfully speaking, I don't know."

Henry nods, feigning he understands. Albeit Jay is private about herself, it doesn't go unnoticed by him that something's amiss. "Well, I know you've been bumped in your classes, so that's good."

"Is it?" Her head tilts. "Rowdier teens and _'stick-my-dick-in-a-girl's-ick'_ fever? I dunno if that's defined _'good,'"_ she air-quotes, and huffs another puff wishing that the cigarette was 'huff-n-puff' stuff.

"Well erm—y'know," that 'ick-dick' part threw him off, along with any other time Jay's vulgarity shows, though that's what he admires about her most: lack of filter. _Emma used to be like that…._ " _'Good'_ is very loosely defined by high-school standards."

"Then I guess it's 'good' I'm exposed to another aspect of English during English. Wanna know a new meaning to cheese-whizz, a.k.a. cheese-jizz?"

"Err, no thanks, the name explains itself. Yeesh, you sure we attend the same school?"

Another shrug. "Probably just exaggerating here, y'know, like a guy's pe—"

"Don't finish there, please! I'll do anything if you stop there!"

Jay chortles. "First, _that's what they **all** said._ Second, _here_."

"Huh?" Henry befuddles from the toxic offer. "You know I can't," he says with a concern face fading by the second.

"Come on," she eggs, "just a hit."

The other looks askance instantly. "Shouldn't you be saying that about the other stuff? The stuff that'll elate me and is total opposite from this, by like… everything?"

"Smoking me doesn't seem your forte, at least for now, it'll happen when it happens; and til then, this is the closest you're gonna get, so come on, take it." She flicks the ashes and prods the burning vice to him. "Come on, what harm? You did say _anything_." Her sunglasses hides the fixed, ineffable stare she's aiming at him.

"Um… addiction is harmful, yeah? I mean, it's nicotine." Currently Henry's body is amidst a state of uncertainty and perplexity slowly brimming with curiosity. He's never been peer pressured before. Should now be the time he relents?

"Just a taste, for real, you'll be fine." Again she prods, to which prods his mind. His eyes are a camera lens constantly shifting focus on the cigarette, focusing that he should take it, but perhaps shouldn't from it unfocused again. Eh…, does he take it or doesn't he? Repercussions could be dire if he does take it. But then again maybe— "You know what, it's cool." She repeals and resumes smoking it. "Another time maybe. Sorry if you weren't ready."

 _What?! No! Dammit, I'm too late! I mean, did I even want it? Will she view me different now cos I wussed out? Well no, tobacco's bad. But… she did offer just a taste, so it couldn't have been dire…. Ugh!_ "Oh no, it's alright. Thanks anyway." To which Jay responds with a sluggish grunt, Henry not able to discern if it was a scoff or truly an understanding response. Damn peer pressure! He should've done it!

"So, anything up with Violet? Swan-a-roo told me about you two."

 _Agh! What's up with her today? First aloofness, cigarettes, and now this?_ Or he's paranoid.

 _Or there's something wrong with both of us, something more with her though._ "Nothing, we're done. Why, you jealous?"

To that a heavy chuckle and laced scoff was Henry's answer. An answer that stings. "Ick-dick isn't my priority right now, Hershey." How that sounded, Henry also can't discern. However, he can confirm his theory that something's indeed amiss with his friend, provided that she's futilely lighting her third or fourth cigarette, to which he attempts to aid her with again, but instead is bashfully swatted away with murmurs how she can handle it herself. On the outside he knocks a cool shrug to that, inside he feels the intense swinging of an organ for practically being chided away. _Then again, I could just be overthinking this and feeling too much._

Shuffling a bit away from her, he chances a glimpse at Jay and crumbles again. _Why does she have her glasses on when there's barely any sunlight? Does she not want to look at me…?_ "Hey, so—"

"Where she from?"

"Wut?" With extra force and concentration Henry keeps his appearance baffled rather than letting mild irritation show from Jay's constant interruptions. "Who?"

"Your ex. Like what's her story? Is she in the book?" Jay indicates with her hand. "What's up with her?"

 _What's it to you?_ "Nothing. She's from Camelot, I'm sure Emma told you." Swiftly he turns away to regain his composure and steady the bass of his voice from accusation.

"Yeah, but—" pause for the huff, "she said it's best coming from you. So what's up?" Discard the cig then puff.

His jaw begins winding. Why is she asking all these questions related to him and close encounters? "Like I said, nothing. She's from Camelot and her father is a knight of King Arthur's table. Nothing much, nothing else."

" _Wow_ , from your tone it sounds like the breakup was shit." All nonchalantly said while she pulled out another fresh cigarette.

"What?! I didn't—ah, never mind!"

"No, no," she continues, putting the vice between her lips. "You seem pissed. I don't know if…ugh, _work dammit!"_ She scolds her lighter, flicking hastily. Already she shoos her hand away from Henry, before he has chance to even approach her, and resumes struggling.

This crosses Henry the wrong way. "You know… there's probably another reason why I'm pissed, just sayin'," he retorts with a small head jerk.

 _"Aha!"_ Jay exclaims from her lit cig.

Henry's jaw stiffens. _Deep breath Mills. Deep—_

"I dunno, dude…," disrupts Jay, again, "This girl sounds like she screwed with your emotions. If it were me then—"

"Thing is it is **you**!" The teen fumes and effortlessly pivots toward Jay's face, yanking the cigarette from her mouth, and stomping it out. "What the hell? You're a chain smoker all of sudden, and ignorant of other's feelings? This isn't you!"

"…"

" _What?_ You can talk crap about Violet, but now you're mute?"

"Whoa, okay. First off, ever pull that shit with the cigarette again, Mills, and you'll see yourself over that bridge quicker than it takes your panties to wad from your 'feelings,' 'kay? And if you can't handle the smell, _Then Fucking_ **_Move_**." The last asserted with menacing steps forward.

"Ah, see! Right there! You're so quick to make threats to me than consider my feelings? You're so quick to act and say rude shit and even progress an uncomfortable topic you can see _I clearly don't wanna talk abou_ t than regard _my_ _feelings?!_ You're quick to act an ass than be my friend!"

 _"Watch yourself."_

 _"No!_ _**Watch** yourself!"_

Saying she was taken aback is an understatement. "The hell does that mean?"

Henry scowls down on Jay for enduring seconds, then simmers down. "Nuthin'…, " he shakes, "It was nothing," and turns away, scuffling.

"Right," she, too, blandly says and turns to herself also.

 _What is happening with us?_ the brunet thinks. Everything was all innocent when he came to hang with Jay today. Yet…, he doesn't know. She seems to be acting odd and distant lately. _Was_ it something he did last time they were together for her to be acting this way? If only he knew…

 _If only he knew, gosh! Why did you even call him up here today? What was so special about today?!_ "I can't—I just…," Jay squeezes her eyes shut and centers on the pain erupting. _You were alone. You were alone and miserable and missed him and just wanted company._ "No, I—" _You wanted to see how he was from that night. You wanted your friend._

Perhaps he can ask her, Henry thinks. He can be direct and just plain ask if there was anything he done wrong to have her acting like this. He can— _What is she doing? Why is she jittery?_ "Jay…"

"I just… I just need a smoke, okay?! Just… just…," she manically rants as she hastily digs in her bag.

"Jay—"

"Hush! Just…," she stops and aimlessly points as anyone perturbed then turns in a circle. Next she pats herself anywhere there's pockets only to come up short. Being shortly deprived of the nicotine she craves, Bexton pulls out another fresh cigarette and puts it to her lips, ready to delve back into her bag. Despite her interests, the bag's pulled away from her. "What are you—"

"Smoking's bad Jay, especially for you apparently." He raises the bag up high, feeling slight satisfaction of the helpless face Jay's conveying. But barely a second is it seen before something else shadows her features.

He can't interpret it but only see it. It's all just a nonexistent yet potential question mark over him in these fatal seconds. To clarify, what's in the bag… that flickering mark over his head, is the demise of everyone—at least this operation. And Jay knows all too well than to further jeopardize it. She's cautious of her actions from hereon. "Put down the bag," she prompts, shamming a regular person not able to have a smoke.

"You could've just asked if you needed a lighter, I literally just helped you, y'know."

"I know, I know," she concedes. "But you gotta know I don't like asking for help."

He understands, sort of. "Alright, tell you what—" _I can't stay mad at her long._ "Answer me a question and you'll get this back," he teases the bag.

 _Oh, please don't._ "Yeah, okay—whatever. Just—" her arm extends for the bag.

"Nope." He pulls it further away. "Answer me this: What's your actual name?"

" _Rumpelstiltskin._ Now let off."

"Haha, Jay. That's not how it even goes. _What's your name?"_

"Uh, ' _Jay'_. What kinda question is that? Now come on, give me."

Henry takes a square step back, feeling a weird sensation like he's been in this predicament before with Jay. "You're lying. I know you are, even your father hinted that's not your name."

Bafflement then skepticism strikes. "Did he really? What he say?"

"He said… _he said—_ "

"Bullshit! You're lying!"

 _"No!"_ Henry laughs from the double meanings. "He didn't say _that_ , but he did hint to me that—"

"Liar, liar, give me my lighter so I can set your pants on fire!" With quick agility and pace Jay was able to snatch her bag back. "You wasted an opportunity, Henry," taunts she with a smirk, "the one time you had the chance to know me and you wasted it on that? Ha! Next time why don't you—"

The honest grin on her face, the raise of her cheekbones and playful tone, and every other lively aspect about her was too much of a moment for Henry to pass—their natural bond awakening with a spark. It was like when they really got to know each other; it was like how they always act; it felt how it's supposed to be. They're supposed to feel this happy around each another. And because of that strong, ardent feeling tugging at Henry's chest and straining his face from his wattful smile, he did what any impetuous 17-year-old would do in his predicament. He acted… because it felt so right. It felt so right, and yet…

As if in slow-motion revealing to the spectator's eye, Henry playfully dove for Jay's bag and with success was able to draw it. Though, before he could triumph a smirk, Jay as well lunged for her bag, unaware of the playfulness fleeing from her in that moment, instead the dread filling, and pulled a bit too fervently resulting a spill of things flying away from the both into the air—the items just volleying their way across the zenith.

Across the zenith they soared, then to Earth they fell.

A hairbrush, her missing lighter, gum, some white bottle (maybe lotion), hygienic stuff, and a tidbit of other stuff Henry's eye skipped over were the items of her bag—normal things.

But there's nothing short of normal with that eerie, vexing mask jubilantly laughing and agonizingly screaming over yon. And the detail to it… _astonishing_ … _amazing_ … _marvelous_ , even. So marvelous Henry had to gawk at it. Such juxtaposing facial expressions melded together so naturally. One of a kind it must be… one of a kind it is.

An airy or spacey distant, satisfying fog is happening in his head. Satisfying because… but then not. At least not with _her_. "Uh," his head sways, " um…." _It makes sense._ "It's you…," he cruises a nod, riding this out. "Yeah, o-of course… why didn't I…? …yeah." He's unaware of Jay scrambling around retrieving her belongings, who long ago stuffed the mask away. It's just oddly satisfying what he's feeling. The betrayal, deceit, synonym feelings hadn't hit him yet. Saying it was a lot for him to take in was another thing indescribable.

"I'm—I'm so sorry you had to see that," she still scrambles around like a mouse, picking the crumbs. "I know a…a…a guy like you doesn't—doesn't wanna see, you know," she indicates, "tampons and other feminine hygiene crap. My bad, just major—

"It was you. You—"

"Iiiiii screwed up. I fffucked up and…," flail of hands for lack of words. "I…I…, Henry please say something, _please_." His stupefied stance is frightening her.

"I need a…," his eyes aren't even on her, nor anywhere really; they're pinpointing nowhere. "I need—"

"A smoke! A-a smoke! You need it, I got it! Give me a second and I'll…," Jay's agitation was so out of hand that her own hands were having a melt-down of their own as she searched for her lighter again in the wondrous bag.

"No, I don't need that. I need…," the rest of anything on his tongue vanished, his eyes glazed.

"What? You need what? I'll give it to you, anything you need, just tell me and I'll get it!"

He doesn't respond.

"Look at me, Henry, look at me." She pulls her glasses off and directs his face to hers. "Look at me, it's just us. Just us here on the Toll Bridge. Tell me what you need, _plEaSe just tEll me._ " The crack in her voice….

He looks at her, unfazed by her bruised eye. "What happened to your…?"

"Nothing. Just some, uh, branches I didn't see a-and—t-tell me what you're feeling. Tell me—hey, hey!" She centers their vision again. "What are you feeling? _What are you feeling?"_

"That…," eyes wander over again, "that it isn't my fault. But that it is. And you told me it wasn't." His eyes return to hers, only instead of the soft jade irises glazed, they were hardened. "You were there… it was real."

Her will to muster up the courage to at least nod was nothing short. "Y-yeah…, yes." She gulps. "I…I was there. B-but how are _you_ feeling? Please, Henry, tell me."

"I feel—" he doesn't finish, but instead shakes his head. "There's two of you, I know there is. Where is he?" So simply he says it all, so calm. "Is he your boyfriend? Is he your…," another head shake fills the air.

Jay bewilders at this, or at least feigns it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't—I don't know."

"You're both in on this. You both want to… to _expose_ me or something…, I dunno, but—" he stares directly back, trying to decode anything in her face; it's all lost.

"You don't know what? Just tell me, come on, please, just tell me. Henry…, hey look at me," she doesn't pull him in this time, but relents in letting his vision wander. "Just tell me _what _ you don't understand. _I'm here._ "

 _" **Are you?** "_

That spins her off. "Y-yes, of course—always," she simpers weakly.

"Well, I'm not." Gently he detaches her hands from his face, "What I need… what I need from you is to just stay away from me," and steps back examining her, blatantly.

"I…," the exposure she feels! _My glasses, w-where are my—_

"I need to go. You just… go back smoking your regrets." How alien that sounds doesn't escape her!

"No…, no, no. Henry, don't."

"Bye, Jay."

"Henry, don't! Please— _please_." She lunges for his hand to pull at it, him facing away from her with an indiscernible countenance. "We can talk about this, come on."

"Let go."

"No…," she adamantly shakes, "No. Let's talk about this, come on."

"Let go…"

"No! We need to—"

" **LET** **GO,** Jay." Their hands are linked with opposing passion in their grips, and arms maximally extended, symbolizing incongruity.

"No, you can't do this. Y-you can't… you can't—" _Don't say it, Bexton. Don't say it._ "You can't just _**walk away**!_ You can't **_abandon_ **_**me**!"_

Their grip tightens—instantly tight as a vice when Henry wrenches her in, Jay crashing into him. The cold defiance crystallizing in his eyes spoke volumes than can be heard. Their entwined hands displayed in both their faces showed their union, friendship, bond— " _ **Watch ** me_," be dismantled vigorously with fervor by none other. Henry's tone graver than the point of no return.

"Don't do this…, I'm begging you don't do this. Stop!" She walks after him, a fair gap between both. "Hear me out! All I—" ' _You… do… nothing! Do you hear me? Do those words ring the emptiest of bells in that eggshell mind of yours? Huh?' _"All I want to do is talk this out with you. We can—" ' _Listen and comply; you do nothing… leave.' _" **Hershey?!** "

As quick as it was for him to stop was as easy for him to keep walking, not a glance back.

 _Follow him! You follow him, Bexton!_ _  
_

 _'He'll be alright, just leave.'_

"What do I…," she presses her temples.

 _You follow him, follow him down._

 _'L_ _isten to what I'm telling you for the millionth time, Kai: Leave. Now. Even a pelican-minded exaggerated oaf like you can understand to Listen and Comply. That is what I have taught you! That is what we have **all** taught you!'_

 _FOLLOW HIM._

 _'You do not go near him, Jay!'_

First it's a shaky step, then another, followed by a stumbling jog—full out sprint from the boy to the woods with Jay's heart beating ferociously with the course of blood rushing through her ears dismissing any sense of logic, again.

 **~Cfys~**

 _You'll be alright._  
 _You'll be alright._  
 _You'll be alright._

 _*Ringing of phone (calling)*_

 _Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system, 207… is not available. At the tone, please record your message._

(Now) "Uh… hey Lawrence, it's… it's Jay."

 _(Shortly Prior) 'Where is the—'_ _She dropped to her knees and pulled the duffel from beneath her bed._

"I know that you're not gonna probably get this for a bit, what with you and technology [weary chuckle], but I, uh…"

 _Articles of clothing are flung maniacally with a sundry sort thrown carelessly in the duffel._

"I wanted to let you know…"

 _'You'll be alright, Jay._  
 _You'll be alright._  
 _Alright.'_

"That I'm fine… and cool, y'know, chillax and stuff—"

 _'I can't. I can't. I can't. I ca—'_ _intense pacing and spiraling thoughts ensued a vociferous scream of her's muffled into a pillow._

"but uh… I just wanted to let you know that I'll be going camping for a little and yeah…, don't worry and stuff [another distressed chuckle]."

 _'Do I take it or don't I? Pro: … Con: …'_

"Oh, and I um, I won't be with my phone in case you call, this or the other. So uh, I dunno, y'know? I'll be back whenever, so, uh… until next time I guess."

 _(Presently) Not a glance is given toward her cabin as she treks away from it now._

"Also, I know that you're laying low from the case debacle and just wanted to say, uh, to say stick to it. Y'know, why rush? …there's nothing much going on anyway as you like to say, and heaven… heaven forbids I, uh, have to see your face so soon [strained laughter]. Anyway… [clear of throat] yeah, 'til next time."

 _Message recorded_

* * *

"Do you remember…, do you remember a time in your life when such prominence was felt with every beat of your heart? That finicky muscle that fools even the best of us actually gave _me_ the purpose I needed in that chapter of my life. My dreary heart crooning the sky's color, pumped to the rhythm of Motown and gave me that soul deep revival. I was a changed man, and my heart pumped in a different way from thereon. Every single feeling I felt, no matter how minuscule, was animated with such vigor and ardor that there must've been a symphony in my chest.

I was esteemed. I was venerated. People emulated me…

Feared and loved and lusted…

Men wanted _to be_ me—

She wanted _to love_ me—

He and I were supposed to go on _adventures_ —

 _ **I** was supposed to be **happy.**_

…

And then it crumbled… _my gods, it all crumbled_ … so effortlessly and effectively between my two accursed hands!

But just know that I _never_ meant for any of it to happen.

Know that I tried. Know that I endeavored to be the man _you_ _knew_ I could aspire toward.

Just know that I am _truly sorry_ to the darkest depths, and that I am sorry for how my heart beats now.

Feelings that I have felt, regardless how teeny or passionate, are now tainted cos of my selfishness… and because of you.

 _Because **you** didn't want to **love** me; cos **they** didn't want to **be** me; cos **he** didn't want **that** relationship._

And cos I… I didn't want to perceive what I did have, opposed to what I wanted— _desired_.

A need is more significant than a want, and I had let the latter consume me. I should have seen that I had what I needed all along.

And I am truly… sincerely, _truly_ , sorry that I didn't."

⇐•⇒

"Eh," he squints at the paper, "the lad's a… 34 by 32 waist. Anything of the sort?"

"Yep, just go around the back and you should see the slim, straight, and bootcut for men."

A brow raised. "What? No, skinny?"

"Sorry, no. We're still in short supply of that. It seems to be a trend now, I guess," says the retailer subtly hinting Killian and his skinnies.

"Pardon, but they're not a 'trend' if ye're naturally born for them," waggled his brows.

"Uh-huh, right. I'll be here if you need anything."

The pirate mutters a mere thanks and heads for the jeans, already overwhelmed from the options; but only a few fretting minutes are wasted before he jumps the gun and picks whatever interests him most. It's difficult to shop for a teen, yet more challenging when it concerns spiteful ones like Henry.

"…ayyyy…," he drawls while circling a rack of shirts, "'tis best not to think of the lad, Jones. 'Tis best to—" he grabs a shirt and begins inspecting it like he's in awe. "'Tis best to add some color in this misfortune…." From the corner of his eye was the display of hats, one of which he eagerly swipes, then making a beeline for the nearest mirror. "Alright, this right there and… that ov' here… and this can—ugh, bollocks. Miss?"

"Yes, sir? Having trouble?"

"Aye, be a dear and, uh, hold this." He hands her the clothing in search for something else direly needed. This goes on the duration of his shopping experience.

 **~Cfys~**

Ahhh, and it was nice—today was nice, thinks Hook. He was productive in something other than nefarious, and can honestly say that he enjoyed it. Also, Emma texted him that anything went for dinner tonight, and already there were an array of meals flitting through his mind he'd enjoy preparing. Possibly he can put to use the knowledge he has from those late-night cooking shows. In addition, the household itself has been relatively calm and peaceful; praise the mighty heavens for the lack of Jay around Henry this last fortnight! Honestly, what a buggy bitch she is to Hook! Good riddance he thinks, the lass was inevitably going to sod off Henry sooner or later. Better it is now rather than the prescient future concerning the boy's fate.

Granted, Henry has been reclusive lately and a bit morose… but none the worry. The boy will be fine. At his age there will always be some immaculate girl he'll fancy then forget. It's just how things are. Jay most certainly the least impressionable.

Emma! Hook's dearest and loveliest Emma on the other hand… ew, where to start?

Gradually the pirate's heart is clenching from the thought of her.

Where to start is nowhere and everywhere. There's barely a connection, physically or emotionally, between the pair anymore! It's been a fair amount of time since Swan's incident and convalescence, enough for him and her to rock the boat, like they use to—preferably on a continuous basis. Although, she's been heavily enamored in these cases to catch her and Henry's suspects. Indignation isn't the correct feeling the pirate himself feels toward this situation—no, no, no. Himself, too, isn't informed the identity of Henry's attacker and would very much like to witness justice be brought down on the little shit, regardless that he _was_ informed that a  little shit would beat _the shit_ out of his shitty stepson. HOWEVER…, how-the-hell-ever, there is indignation lowly rumbling within the pits of Hook's stomach pertaining to Swan's case, moreover, the same fucking case she keeps pursuing like the bloody shite happened! _It didn't happen!_ _What the hell is she doing?!_

Everyone _pitying her—pitying himself—pitying Henry_—just dropping pity of their thoughts everywhere! It's rubbish, utter rubbish skewed all over. Can't anyone see this?

"Hmph!" grunts Killian as he pushes the folded clothing deeper in the suitcase. The day is beginning to tire and night awakening as he packs away everything he bought earlier into a suitcase personally for Henry. Vermont is going to be as smooth and comfortable a sail for the lad as much the pirate can make it. This will be for everyone's benefit and will entail them to face a reality they all seem to adamantly shun: the Queen's death.

Oh, the Queen fell alright, but only from the hands no one expects. Who would believe such slander that Henry killed Regina? Who would take heed to Killian's words that such an act happened in the broad of day? Delusional they'd call him! Paranoid! They'd probably lynch him if anything! They'd probably—

 _What was that?_ That sound…

 _Get the gun._ He's not paranoid, far from. It is called the right to bear arms and stand to those who intrude on private property. Trespassing is a serious felony citizens unfortunately have to face, himself now included. His rights will—

 _Emma?_

"Oh, thank Poseidon it's just Swan," relieves Hook as he regains his breath and lowers the gun. Next he chuckles at the silly thought of using Swan's gun against her. How folly is that? "Aye, it certainly is," he smiles at the weapon, turning it in the light and coming to thought, " 'specially cos it's Swan's…"

Not to mention that he's also in Henry's room with a suitcase packed with new clothes for him.

"Right then, to dispose this here." He raises the weapon and heads where to put it, but then scuttles as his brain loads on where it just was. All of it innocent movement until he realizes that it originally was on him, and due to his jacket being downstairs, no way to conceal it. Also, he's about to prep for dinner, so no excuse for wearing a jacket from his closet. Now he's pacing.

He's pacing cos there's no place to put the gun! He can't hide the gun in him and Emma's room because it's _him and Emma's_ room and Emma will find out, and like her nature, she'll inevitably figure that it's him that has her gun, which makes this whole operation futile and— _"Keep it together, sailor."_

The keys can be heard jingling.

"Bloody hell!" Under the pressure, Hook barely examines his surroundings before noticing the suitcase again. Relief and trouble swarms him as he concludes that he can hide the weapon in the case, but where the case?

Hurriedly he trots over to the window and peeks at a frazzled Emma constantly dropping and fumbling her keys; and if he remains perfectly still he can hear his wife grumbling and profaning a slew of things. "Her heart seems deaden upon the guile of keys…," he squints, "rough day it must've been."

He deserts away from the window and back to the suitcase where he embeds the weapon beneath everything haphazardly, trying his best to obscure any telltale sign of metal and bulk. Now, where to hide the case? Not him and Emma's room, and not Henry's, unless…

Dazed already, Killian draws back his stepson's closet in such haste that it takes a hearty minute for his composure to settle. By then he dismally realizes that such space in Henry's closet is nonexistent along with any other place in the room.

It has only been mere seconds and minutes since Swan's arrival and already Hook's— _"That's it! Closest space—"_ tumbles out his mouth as he, without waste, grabs for the case and speeds for the one room practically nonexistent to everyone.

Trumpets blare! The choir sings! The sporadic holy glimpse of sunlight triumphs! All of it happens when you enter a room like Her majesty's. Moreover, taste doesn't have taste until it meets Regina Mills, but even then just a morsel is indulged, because _dayuuum_ … is what Killian felt when he first entered the Queen's room.

Yet with this being the third or fourth, maybe fifth, time of him entering (or trespassing) that awe sensation is dulled, just a bit. He still without fail is able to slightly gape how uncanny it is that Her smell still lingers and is not overpowered by his musk.

And with the fervor of a child hugging their precious relic (him the suitcase), Hook intrudes the room and hunches for the closet. _Such a closet it was!_ …when he'd first seen it, now though it is the perfect place to hide the suitcase.

He watches his steps to ensure nothing of the Queen's belongings are marked by him, and from there carefully hides the case with any natural obscurities—things in the back no one will notice.

Emerging from the wondrous closet, the pirate can't help but twirl around from the sight before him while exiting. This was Her chamber…, this was where she was most vulnerable in all aspects…, this is where Regina Mills was just that, Regina Mills.

This whole room…, this room was truly a piece out of time. Regardless frozen for 28 years, and truly out its era of innovation from when and whence the Queen is from, nothing however, stands to the inner workings of the Queen's mind behind these walls. A man's chamber is his refuge, it's where his heart lies and mind reels unapologetically—the walls his witness, the silence his crowd, and himself the judge.

And as for Regina's, it has yet to live through its most interesting case. Out of time it'll remain until her return.

Long gone from the room and upstairs altogether, Killian now ties an apron around his waist and gets the door. "Swan!" He brightens. "How is, luv? Didn't expect ye so soon."

"Uh," baffles Emma from the greeting and scene of Hook. "Did you not hear me with the door?"

"Apologies, I was in the loo. Come now, you look cold." He ushers her in and takes her jacket in switch for a blanket.

"Hook, no, I'm fine."

"What is a husband," his voice carries over, "to his loving wife without the care?"

"Uh, I don't know, what?"

"Nothing." He states, appearing with a blanket and offering it to her. "We're a team, Emma. In sickness or health there will always be care."

"Oh, Hook…," she sighs, but is interrupted.

"That is only the tip of the iceberg, luv. Tonight I will cook for you and the lad both you're own meals. So what'll it be?"

"Erm, maybe a drink to start it off?"

"Ah, yes! Ye can't mark a memorable night without a slight buzz. I'll get the wine—"

"Actually, can you make it a beer? I just need to feel the rush right now, cos y'know I'm still, uh, cold."

"Right on it!" He delightfully hums opposed to his irked expression. _Always drinking is the lass._ "Here go," he slides it over the islet and watches his wife take a seat. She seems enough in the mood to tolerate him, so that's good.

"Thanks," she nods and chugs the beer.

"Hoy!" He censures, "Quick to drink but not to think; you'll spoil your appetite," and ducks from her view to grab a pan, only to miss her glare. "Right then, tell me what ye want."

From the clinging of the pots and pans, Emma mutters something he can't hear, but he knows along the lines what it is. "Huh? Apologies, what was that?" He directs his full attention to her, waiting for her wise quip just muttered.

"Nothing, it was uh…"

"Sorry, a little louder will ya?" He lends his ear.

Emma clears her throat and shakes her head. "Nothing. It was just—I was just giving ideas, and uh, nothing." Eyes avert and sips are heard.

"Oh, ye sure? Cos if there's anything ye wanna say, just say." Nonchalant shrug. "Nothin' much to converse if one is always quiet…."

"Hold up…, are you trying to be _petty_?"

"Pettiness is child's play, Swan," scoffs Killian as he rummages through the fridge and slides his wife another beer, himself ingredients for a dinner already planned. "I just want to know how your day went."

Before answering, Emma lazily sips her new drink and studies her husband's stance. He seems to be grating the zucchini a little too passionately. "Thought you was making what I wanted? I don't recall zucchini part of the meal."

"Mmm, who said this wasn't Henry's?"

A patronize sip and remark follows, "I don't think he's gonna like that."

"Ayyy, and what reason behind that?" He continues grating, "Hmm?"

"Well, for starters, he doesn't like zucchini. _He said—"_

" _He said_ it tastes like soap or something other, yes, I remember. Yet he fails to recognize the last two dinners I've made contained it, so why tell him if he enjoys it?" Not a glance Hook gives before he sets the pan on simmer. "I'm aware of his feelings, Emma."

"I know."

"Do you? Cos from here it seems you don't give a damn of anything important."

Confusion displays. "What does that mean?"

 _Cool your temper, Jones_. "…Nothing. Pardon for the eruption…. How was your day?" Now he chops the vegetable. "Notwithstanding your early return, any records beaten on your run?"

"Uh, no. Had to cut it short due to the weather." She folds within the blanket more with a wary eye on him.

"Ye're right, the seas seem to be brewin' a mighty storm, eh? I reckon quite a blizzard followin'. So, how go the lad's case? Any new leads or such?"

Emma shakes her head irritably and takes a lush swig.

Hook nods his understanding while dumping the chopped veggies in the sizzling pan. "Must be hard, what with double cases?"

"Mmm, you've no 'deaaa…."

"No, I don't." Cautiously he surveys her and infers her mild inebriation. "So?"

"Hmm?" She lays her head down, focusing on the crackling of the pan.

"What with yours?"

"What with mine what?"

"Your case, luv. How's it going?"

Her head pops up with a smile. "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

"Y'know that's not what I meant," he grins back at her and pauses. _Is she going to answer or…?_

Emma's head sways back down like a feather.

"You all right, luv?"

A small tweak to her beer she gives, but that can mean anything. "Emma…? Emma?" Hook crouches to catch her eyesight, but bears nothing. _She must be dozing off. Perhaps I should move her for safety._ "Come on, Swan," he reaches for her. "I think it's best you _—_ " yet before his hand fully throttles her to wake, Emma mumbles something. "Come again?"

"A picture… they sent me…."

"A picture?" He would've settled that he's imagining what Emma said, but from the tweak of her beer bottle again he can only conclude he was correct. "Of what?" Eyes look searchingly for an answer.

Gradually Emma sits back up eschewing eye contact, or any response for the matter, and takes another wholehearted swig from her drink. When that's done she places the bottle down a fine distance and just rotates and stares at it. Adding to the pensiveness, she leans on her other hand and remains this way for seven whole bottle turns. It's the approaching eighth that urges Hook to pry again.

"Emma, what picture?"

"…"

 _"Emma, what—"_

"Henry's not home you know," she drawls, still toying the bottle. "So that means we can…," and hints with a nod.

Her implication is persuading, thinks Killian as he regards the stairs' way. It's been fairly too long since him and Swan had intimacy with each other…, intimacy he craves nonetheless. What he give for—

Thoughts come to an alarming halt when suddenly soft lips are felt against his own. Excitement is rousing inside him from this dear reality he long imagined: Swan initiating first. As always it's a drunken haze when he kisses her and hopefully she to him. Her long golden locks practically the sun's rays bountiful in his hands, her lithe body pressed against his and yearning for his affectionate touch, her small waist perfect for his hand to snake around and possessively tug at—followed by the itching sensation to lift her and ravish her exposed neck, for which he does. Gods, just everything about her is perfect! Her brilliant sea green eyes that seem intent to remain close, her death grip on his jaw to stay focused on her, and her smell all intoxicating, even more than usual. Everything is more passionate, more forced, more… _toxic_.

Hook's eyes bug.

She keeps kissing him. She keeps kissing him the more he slows and realized what's to become but instead clutches on.

He pulls her off and catches his breath before saying, "You're drunk."

"So?" She pants. "Come on," and reaches for him at which he steps back.

"No, no. You're drunk and using me. This isn't right."

"Honestly what's the difference if you do the same?"

 _"What?!"_ he astonishes.

"Hook, calm down. It's nothing," Emma walks back around the islet and finishes her beer with her back to him. The lack of light but instead darkness sets the air and portrays her as a silhouette.

"No, no I will not calm down, Emma, cos I bloody right know it's _something_. Ye've been shruggin' it off for days—weeks even that it's 'nothing!' I am tired of the same crap comin' out yer mouth! I want the truth: What is goin' on? What is this picture you mentioned, Swan?"

"…"

"Emma, look at me. Tell me the truth, love; what's goin' on with ya? Ye're not tellin' me anything and I don't… I don't know what to do, _please_."

"…"

"Emma, please."

"…you're lying."

"W-what?" His face breaks, also voice. "Love, look at me. What do y—"

"You know exactly what I mean," her tone dims.

"No, Swan, I don't! I don't—"

"Where is the gun, Hook? Where did you put it?"

A pause. A pause and involuntary gulp. "I've not a clue what you speak about. But I do know—"

"Know what?" she interrupts, back still turned and choler rising. "You know that a false investigation will still continue from your omissions?"

 _Omissions?!_ That alone vexed him enough to allude, with his voice becoming taut. "The only omission there is pertains to what you have done and its neglect—to it and to me."

Emma scoffs. "Why didn't you just say something? Why… what… what was your purpose?" Finally she turns to him with fatigue written all over and arms crossed. "I don't under—"

 _" **No!** " _He slams the counter with fuming ire. "Don't you _dare_ turn this on _me_ and proclaim your daftness on this!" He seethes at her stone face. "I… I…," he repeatedly jabs at himself, " _ **I** _ am the one to cry victim here—not you! You…you…y—" this time he strips his face from hers and grips the counter behind him, channeling his anger through impenetrable marble as the words struggle to come forth.

"Just say it. You know you want to."

 _" **That doesn't help!** " _he barks.

 _" **Just say it!** "_

"No," he avidly shakes. "No. No, no, no! There's something… there's something wrong—" He rocks to and fro on the counter, any way to— "There's something wrong with us… w-with you. There's something wrong with _**you**!"_

"That's not true, Hook; you know that's not what you want to say. Come on, say it. Say what you saw that night."

"There's nothing I want to say! Not after you…you—"

"I what? After I what?" Emma cynically chuckles. "Just Say It!" she opens her arms, beer in one hand. "Stop rocking like a bitch, and just say that I had the balls to—"

"To what?" emerges Henry. "You had the gall to do what?"

~Minutes prior~

 _Ugh! This is effin' disgusting! Why in the freaking kitchen where there's food!?_

Henry peeks at the gross couple in the kitchen getting their freak on. Any brooding and ill and so forth thoughts and feelings are forgotten from this atrocity frolicking before his eyes.

 _It's like their trying suck each other's face off._

Emma was sloppy and arguably eager in her actions, and Hook was too submissive then to dominate—or at least try. And that was only from Henry accidentally walking full-pledge in on them the three seconds.

 _I should probably leave and come back later._

A curtain with its windows opened caught Henry's eye and informed him on the weather's conditions outside—conditions that seemed undesirable. All he wants to do is lock himself in his room for the rest of the day, or possibly lifetime, and sulk. Sulk and admonish every good thing that's happened in his life so far, like Jay.

"You're drunk."

 _Ha! What's new?_

The teen suppresses a laugh from the thought. It seems Hook is the one to complain this time, but if Henry recalls, Hook was the complainer of him and Emma's marriage, so it isn't really surprising. Though, for him to decline sex with his mom— _Really gross just thinking that_ —is saying something, mainly because she's drunk. How… noble, thinks Henry.

Yet, despite this oddity showing through his stepfather, Henry starts building the mindset to depart without making sound. He tiptoes his way toward the mansion's entrance and detours to the coat closet beside it in order to retrieve his scarf. As old the scarf is and how much he'd love to chuck it out his life, it just reminds him too much of the good times he had with his mother, both of them actually, before the main one's death. So despite his loathsome feelings toward it, it was still a staple and a significant piece apart of him.

Instead of turning on the light and giving any hints of his presence, he blindly touches around until he contacts the bittersweet scarf. His hand ventured over a hat or two, some umbrellas, a jacket, and— _oops!_ He accidentally dropped what must've been Emma's jacket and something along with it.

The object first looked like a card before he realized it was a picture of something, but because it was dark and he didn't want to jeopardize himself opening the light, he let it be and put everything back.

Only a few more blind touches he's away from leaving until something catches his ear.

"Where is the gun, Hook? Where did you put it?"

 _Gun?_ squints Henry. _The only gun Emma's interested in is_ — "Ohhh…, but—" _if she's asking him where it is, then that could only mean…_

A pause.

A long and deafening pause trilled from Hook.

 _"No…,"_ appalled Henry. "That doesn't sound right, Hook would never—"

"I've not a clue what you speak about. But I do know—" _Why does he sound guilty?_

"Know what? You know that a false investigation will still continue from your omissions?"

 _Omissions?! What omissions? Hook didn't… it was Jay! Her or her boyfriend tried to **kill** Emma! She has it all wr—wait, neglect? _ He draws out the closet from this magnetic pull. _She's neglecting that he did it? Why would Emma do such a thing? She can't love him that much if she's confronting him…._ _What was your purpose, Hook? From here it sou—_

 _" **No!** "_

Such an eruption startled Henry, who's now out the closet and gradually inching toward the kitchen for better sound. _It can't be. Hook wouldn't just—_

"I…I…," flustering is heard, " _ **I** _ am the one to cry victim here—not you! You…you…y—" then anguish.

Henry, now considerably close to the kitchen, is all ears and clicking thoughts on the reality of everything. These naysay thoughts of Hook attempting murder on Emma are making sense. Jay doesn't seem the character to kill someone, let alone Emma, unless she's twisted…, yet it doesn't seem likely, no matter how ruthless the woman is; and with such a liking she takes to Emma, regretfully (and then not) Henry feels it wasn't her. Personal bias aside, it wasn't Jay, he settles. But the only other person that was there that night in the warehouse was Hook, no one else. And if Henry remembers correctly, himself was unconscious by the time Hook arrived, so it is highly possible Emma and Hook got into a fight and things went wrong then to lead to her death. Not to mention that Nurse Lionel did explain to Henry that his mother's head shot wound was fairly fresh when they arrived at the hospital that night. Also, she mentioned that his stepfather did get something of an incision from glass cleanly entering his abdomen.

Then again, Hook did remark a cut he acquired from saving Henry and Emma.

Yet, he could've been lying.

And with these current loud yells of Emma telling Hook to admit to something, Henry can't help but think that it has to do with her death, moreover Hook trying to kill Emma.

"There's—there's something wrong with us… w-with you. There's something wrong with _**you**!"_

 _The man's voice is breaking like he's been caught. He sounds as guilty as Jay…_

Thus convictions are set. Hook's a suspect, more than likely _The Suspect_ , he just has to be. The guilt riddled on Jay's face was too distinctive to not envision on Hook's face just from his spiraling tone. The guilty are shining out on this grim day and it couldn't be a better time, settles Henry on all of it.

"Just Say It! Stop rocking like a bitch, and just say that I had the balls to—"

"To what?" emerges Henry, who's ready to face this head on. He doesn't need Jay, nor Emma of Hook, for them to live their lives. "You had the gall to do what?"

* * *

 **~Cfys~**

"Henry," voices Emma, startled. "I, uh, I didn't hear you come in. Um…," she casually walks over to the sink and sets her beer down, her voice now relatively small. "How long… how long were you here?"

"Not long. I just came in and heard some shouting and thought I should check." His eye wanders over to Hook, who looks anguished. "Everything alright?"

"Uh, yeah," leans Emma against the counter beside Hook. "All fine, kid. Right?" she pats her husband for affirmation, his response a grunt.

"You sure?" queries the teen as he heads toward the fridge. "Looks like Hook's gonna puke…."

"Nah, he's fine, just a little queasy from stuff. So how goes your day? Any signs of Jay? Haven't seen her lately."

"Nope, she's still a no-show; it'll probably be like that for a while. Hey, by 'stuff' do you mean the argument you guys just had?"

"Uh…"

"Cos honestly," Henry seats himself on the islet across from Emma, and glimpses at the burning pan and teases Killian. "Hey, Boyardee, I think your food's burning."

With the grayest of shadows shadowing the pirate's face as he mumbles cusses of the food's misfortune, Henry notices a build of red on Hook's face. _A face riddled with guilt._

"So erm, how much did you hear?" Emma crosses her arms and feels the racketing thuds of her heart, as well as the fogginess of her brain. "Henry?"

Unexpectedly, the driest of tones emits from Henry when he says, "How much do you want?" And with his head cast aside and directed at Hook—whose's whole stance is rigid with his own head bowed—it only made the air tense.

A pause…, a pause…, a pause— _I gotta say something_ —, a long and deafening pause is what Emma offers.

Her faint heart skipped a skip from the utter dread it felt after hearing Henry. She felt so overwhelmed that a response wasn't even feasible for her to muster. With a wary eye she observes her son's suspiciously relaxed posture opposed to Hook's building one. Then she hears the emptiest bells ringing in her mind as if she was forewarned about this.

Cogs are turning in his mind, but short-circuiting in hers. There's a boldness defining in every wakening breath of his, but draining rapidly in hers. A truth wants to be heard by him, but not from her. "Hook," directs Henry to the man whose jaw is noticeably bulging, "what was Emma saying about her having the gall to do what?"

Said woman steps in, "Henry, Hook has nothing to do with—" but is halted a with raised finger from her son.

"Emma, please. I'm asking Hook and not you, so hush." He ignores her scowl. "Hook?"

 _What do I say if there's 'supposedly' nothing?_ "Aye…," the pirate starts with his head low and movement slow as he chops something else, "ye might want to refer to yer mother for answers, lad. Only she knows…."

"Yeeeaaah…, but I'm asking _you_."

"And I'm tellin' you I know nothing. Ask your mother."

"Listen to Hook, Henry. It's me you should be asking the question to, not him."

"Yeah, but," the teen turns and reviews his mother, blatantly, "you're a liar."

 _"…that she is…,"_ mutters Killian, still chopping slowly.

A mutter Henry apparently heard. " _'That she is'_ what, Hook?"

"…a liar…." **_Chop_** … ** _. Chop_** … ** _._**

"A liar about what?"

 _… **chop** …_

"Hook, don't."

" _'Hook, don't'_ what, Ma? Hm? What don't you want Hook to say about your deceit?"

"Henry—"

"'Tis not deceit…," Hook quiets, "but rather omission…."

"Henry," begins Emma, "I think you should go to your room."

"Omission…?" Brows knit. "Like something about her case?"

"I dunno," **Chop**. _"Ask her,"_ Hook lifts his face Emma's way—subtle red-eyes and defiance sharpening.

"Emma, what is he talking about?"

"…"

"Emma?"

"…nothing, kid, j—"

 _" **OI‼** [stabs knife in cutting board] IT'S ALWAYS BLOODY **NOTHING** WITH YOU ISN'T IT!?"_

 _"_ …"

"…"

"Henry, lad, ye wanna know somethin'? Ye wanna know _exactly_ what yer mother had the gall to do that she accuses is my fault? That she accuses is OUR FAULT?!"

"Don't you **dare**!" venoms Emma who rounds the islet, but is evaded from. "Don't bring him into this, Hook!"

"Hush, lass! The boy wants to hear a tale and tale he shall get!" He dodges from her again. "Once upon a time, there was a coward named Emma—"

"Hook, I swear to God—"

 _"'Tis a false God if it's one you swear to, Swan!"_

 _"That's it!"_ She pulls the knife out the board.

"'Twas a coward named Emma that had the gall to leave her loving husband and son behind!"

"Henry, don't listen to him!

"But there was only one way for her to escape! Guess boy, guess!"

 _"Hook, I'm gonna fuckin—"_

"To runaway?" answers Henry with the shatter of glass startling him. He looks behind and blanches at the sight.

"No, 'twas death," says Killian with a jagged beer bottle in his hand aiming it at his wife for her to come any closer, Henry the barrier neither of them want to cross.

Emma alerts from the weapon. "You wouldn't."

"Of course I daren't, but step any closer with that look and thou shall find out."

"What do you mean 'death?'" puzzles Henry who's apparently unfazed of both sharp objects seemingly pointed at him. He's certain they won't hurt him, but to each other? It's obvious both aren't in their right minds and desperately need this situation averted. However, what Henry's hearing from Hook is captivating him more than the blood-thirst, glazed look twinkling in Emma's eye, and the formidable stance the pirate's feigning.

"There's a reason your mother troubles at the mentions of her case. Ever wondered why?"

"Henry, you _know_ why," stresses Emma. "You know—"

 _"Lies through her chattering teeth!"_ Hook spat. "Don't believe a word from her, Henry. This isn't the same Emma I fell in love with, nor is she the same woman you long ago sought. She is nothing but a walking corpse!"

"Henry, back away!" commands Emma as she climbs over the islet.

 _"No, lad, keep still!"_ squabbles Hook as he ducks beneath the teen to get behind. Both adults back in the same position.

"You know you sound stupid, right? Of course he knows I'm a walking corpse," she points the knife at Henry, "hell, everyone knows! It's a fucking miracle I'm still here!"

"Keep tellin' yourself that, Swan! But everyone knows dead men tell no tales, and I can assure you, Henry, that there's a tale like no other yer mum keeps restrainin'. 'Tis an omission she refuses to divulge."

"The only thing that's going to be omitted is how this wasn't self-defense once I divulge this knife into you! Henry, room, NOW."

"…I don't think I'm comfortable leaving y'all here…," insists Henry regarding both hysteric adults. One is slightly drunk and ready to kill, and the other is…

Henry peeks at Hook and can see that the other is scared, but is putting up a good front.

 _This isn't making sense!_ Why is Emma afraid and hell-bent on Hook finishing the 'tale' about her case? And why do they want harm each other?! They're both asses in the respected ways, but there's no need for bloodshed. It's just not making sense, and the more it keeps drifting, the more frightened Henry becomes. Hook attempted to kill Emma and that's that. This dance around the bush and play of words needs to end.

"Hook…, this tale of Emma you're telling…," he turns to him with a stern visage, "does this have to do with her knowing her murderer?"

 _"Yes."_

 _" **No!** "_

"Lad, don't listen to her. She's not a clue nor handle of what's happening."

"Henry…, I'm begging you," she exhausts, " _please_ don't listen to him. You were right! Y-you were right all along!"

 _What is she…?_ "I was?" he suspects.

"Mm-hmm," nods Emma fervently with a quivering knife. "Hook and I… Hook and I can't do this anymore. It's done, over. _I want a divorce._ "

"Henry, she's drunk!" rings Hook with a trembling bottle. "She doesn't mean it. She won't even remember any of this."

"Henry, look at me."

"Don't, lad."

"Look at your mother, Henry."

 _"Don't!"_

"Henry Daniel Mills, _look… at… **me**_."

He looks at her, unabashed—something Emma greatly respects and lifts her own head toward. This rivalry that's been between both son and mother for years has yet to cease, but is moderately evolving into underlying respect for the other's unwavering stance.

"It's over, Henry," she breaks after a pause. "The divorce is real and is happening."

He challenges, "You're lying," at which she shakes.

"I'm not. This… this is happening and is final. I'll get the papers tomorrow and we can—"

 _"Henry, don't listen to her!"_ quakes and sniffles Killian. _She can't! She just can't…_

"We can go to the courthouse together a-and—"

 _"Lad, **plEaSe**!"  She can't leave me!_

"Read it over from there, then situate—"

 _"Henry, her killer is iN **THIS ROOM**!"_

"…"

"…"

 _No…_

 _Hold your breath and it'll be over. Hold your breath_ …

 _She can't… she can't, she can't, she can't…_

"I don't…," _That only means—_ "What do you—"

"You're an intelligent young man, Henry," breaks Hook, "I know… you know exactly what I mean…. Open your eyes, lad," he reaches for Henry, "and see what's presented."

"No…," the teen dreadfully shakes, slowly grabbing for his hair, "no, no, no, NO! It's—that's not…," shocked eyes look at the one person that can actually deny this, but she looks away. "No…," he exhales and then chuckles. "No, just—" _No. No. No. No._ "You're lying and… and…"

"Open your eyes, Henry," Hook grabs for the teen who recoils dramatically.

"Don't touch me! Just—" he points with his eyes closed and cynically smiles and chuckles. "I know you're lying. You're lying and… and y-you're lying a-a-and just trying to get in my hand—no, head!" He yells the correction. "You're trying to get in my head and be the snake you are, okay?!" he declares, eyes still shut. "Y-y-you're doing what… w-what you did last time a-and—"

 _"Henry—"_

" **NO!"** he cuts Emma off. "He—he killed you…. You— **you** …," he asserts at Hook, eyes opened. " _You killed her!_ You killed Emma and that is what happened," he presses his palms together and leans his nose on them, awaiting Killian's response with every bone within him juddering.

 _I'm not going to look at her. I'm not going to look at her because she isn't the one being confronted. **She** is the  victim here. She is the victim and will remain the victim because such a thought that she… she…_

 _ **No.** No, no, no! Hook killed her, that's it. He tried to kill her and—_

"As much…," began the pirate solemnly, "that it would comfort you that I did try and kill Swan…," he dryly gulps, "I didn't. I didn't… and I'm sorry. But, lad, just know that—"

 _"…did you…?"_ whispers the teen, seemingly distracted. _"Did you actually do it?"_ he still stares intently at the pirate in the same manner—crazed eyes and stinging chest.

"Son, listen to me: I did not—"

"Did you kill yourself, Emma? Did you actually do it?" _Look at Hook. Just keep looking at Hook. Look at Hook and not her._ Loop. _Look at Hook and not her._ Loop. _Look at Hook and not her._ Loop.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"No."

"…?" besides Hook's astonished face, it's Henry's that triumphs.

He peels his eyes away from his stepfather and beams them toward his mother, the only sound emitting are his feet turning.

He looks at her, but not in their rivalry way, and studies her. Everything about her—her rigid stance, acute posture, less threatening grip on the knife, flickering eyes, and slightest twitch of face—is his to scrutinize and probe. Such a fascinating, remarkable figure to gawk over…, since she's lying.

"Emma," Henry cautiously begins with a step forward, "did you or did you not try to—"

"No."

"Swan…"

 _"No…?"_ repeats Henry, surprised. "'No' as in…?"

"'No' as in I'm not going to answer that, Henry."

"So I was right then, _Hook_ did it!"

"No, he didn't."

"But you just said—"

"I know what I said, and frankly it's none of your business." She raises her head justly, voice clipped and eyes focused… the betrayal flickering in them uncanny.

 _"But it is."_

"It's not really."

"I don't…," _What is she—_ "what you're saying is…," _Why is she—_ " So basically you can have knowledge pertaining to _my case_ , but I can't for _yours…_?"

"Yes."

"Of course… [nods to self] and—and why is that? Why do you get to be secretive about this?"

"I'm not being secretive," she affirms, "I'm just protecting you."

 _"Protecting me from what?"_

"…yourself…"

"So my feelings?! [thickly scoffs] You're protecting me from my feelings? From feeling what?"

"Henry, I'm 'fraid she doesn't mean it that way…."

"From feeling what, Emma? Cut the bullshit and just—"

 _"Henry!"_ scolds Hook.

"NO! I just want the truth! Did you or did you not kill yourself, Emma?!"

"…"

 _"Why won't you answer me?!_ " a step forward.

"Lad, why don't ye simmer down a bit and—"

"Just say it! You did it, didn't you?!"

 _"Lad—"_

"You had the balls to kill yourself and leave me! Is that what it is?! Huh?! You couldn't put up with me anymore, is that it?!"

"Henry, **calm** down."

 _"You shut the **fuck** up!"_

"Oh, some sailor ye are with that foul tongue of yours, eh?! Much of a man ye are, aye?!"

"Hook—"

"Oh, so you can say _**his**_ name, but can't answer a simple goddamn question to me? TO ME?! Your son you tried to abandon, **AGAIN**!"

"I never said—"

 _"Exactly!"_ he seethes. "You haven't uttered one real answer to me! But you'd rather have me feeling like **shit** , because of your **shIT PARENTING**!"

"I am telling you, Henry," enunciates Hook, "Watch Your Temper…"

 _"You're a shit mother—"_

"You have 'til the count of 3 to—"

 _"You're a shit daughter!"_

" **1** —"

 _"A fucked up wife!"_

" **2** —"

 _"A drunk and impotent Sheriff that can't get **shit** right!"_

"Emma, luv, do me a favor and lower the knife to lend a hand here—"

"Everything you're saying, Henry, _is pathetic and disgustingly vulgar._ What more you have, hmm?"

"Swan, don't."

"No, he's practically 18 and knows exactly what's he's saying, Hook. He can't talk the talk if he isn't gonna walk it."

 _"Meaning…?"_

"You know exactly what it means," she rolls her sleeves up harshly. "So…, besides being shitty at every title, what else you got, Henry?"

"You're not goin' to hit him, Emma…."

 _"You're the worst savior in history!"_

"Ah, there's the little shit-bag that's my son! What else you got? Come on," she gestures.

"Swan, you're drunk."

"Hook's right, you're a drunk! Worst than him or even Leroy!"

"Aww, c'mon, that's a compliment, Hen; it just means I can hold my liquor. Now come on, give me something better!"

"I HATE YOU!"

"The feeling's mutual right now, ta!" She winks at Hook. "Come on, boy! Use that mouth you're so fond of!"

"I **HATE** YOU!"

"[chuckles] You already said that, love. For real, Henry, show me your manliness! **Grr!** "

"I **HATE** YOU!"

"What are you? A broken record player?" she smirks.

"Emma, stop! Can't ye see the boy's—"

"Hook, shut-up, I got this. For years we've been taking his backtalk and smartass retorts feeling belittled and useless. I'm done, you're done, that's it. This shit ends here and now. We deserve better."

 _"We…?"_

"Yes, Henry, 'we,' as in me and Killian. We deserve more respect than the little shit-drops you toss at us. Now come on, I'm waiting," she waves. "Cast some aspersions; slur out your slurs; degrade me, whatever the fuck ever, just get on with it."

 _"'We…'"_

"Kid, were you not listening? Are you **that** deaf?"

"Swan, that's enough! Ye're being an arse!"

"What? All I'm doing is…" fades Emma's voice in Henry's ears.

 _It's happening again… it's…it's…_

 _ **Why** is it happening again?! _ Why… why… why just—

What did he do wrong? Huh? What Did He Do Wrong? Where did he go wrong? Why is it wrong? HOW IS IT WRONG?!

Why is it happening again?!

Why did he think that she would change? Why did he think that she would SEE HIM?

Why did he think that she CARED about him?

Why can't he see that he's Stupid?

Why can't he see that no one will ever care, or love, or see him?!

Why can't he see that everything's better off without him?!

WHY CAN'T HE SEE THAT HE'S **NOTHING**! He's nothing a-a-and he's nothing and no one cares for him and he's just garbage and useless and stupid— _stupid, stupid, stupid, **SO** **STUPID**_ —and he's just… just…

 _ **Agh!**_ _Why is it happening again?!_ Why does he deserve to feel like this?! He—he's drowning and… and there's no air and it's just suffocation everywhere! It's **dark** and _cold_ and  scary because there's no one here to help him from the monsters that are always around him just lurking and waiting to assail. They keep brushing by him and he's thinking otherwise, but everywhere he turns there's always someone he's supposed to trust who isn't whom they say they are and it's just misleading. There words are misleading, their face is misleading, everything about them is untrustworthy and misleading… and it has to STOP! It has to—it has to just stop! No more! He can't—

He can't do this anymore.

He can't… he can't live like this. He can't. He just can't. And he needs someone. He needs someone _so badly_ , so, **SO** **BADLY,** but yet there's no one because it seems no one cares about him. No one cares and so they just leave.

They leave and…

They leave and…

 _"…I hate you…"_

They leave and never come back.

Mom is gone. Dad is gone. Emma is gone. Jay is gone…

Everyone's gone…

Their gone and he's left alone…

…

Why does he deserve to feel like this? Why does he deserve to feel the swell of his heart where it wants to implode in agony? He wants to cry out. He wants to bawl his eyes til there red and itchy, and let his heart bleed. He wants to let his aching sobs that'll racket his body be half muffled in his pillow with the other half reverberated by his own four walls. He just wants to shed from this shell he's in and emerge anew and innocent and carefree.

He just wants to let all his problems go.

He can't do this anymore. _"…I hate you, I hate you…"_

Why does he deserve to feel hurt? Why does he need to feel the pressure of his chest inflate and sting a thousand stings? Why does he need to hold back a guttering scream that's really a plead for help for anyone and anybody to:

 _Find me… Find me and please save me. Please. I can't_ _…I can't_ _—_

It's not fair he has to conceal his feelings from feeling exposed.

Just why doesn't she care about him? Is he not lovable anymore? _"…I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…,"_ Is he really disposable like he thinks he is? _"I hate you, I hATE YOU, I HATE YOU,"_ Or is he really not part of this family and never was…? _"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE_ _—_ _"_

There's one thing he does know that he is: useless, unwanted—

 ** _"IHATEYOU‼"_**

and broken…

"[sobs uncontrollably] _I hAte yOu… I haTe yoU… I—_ " his legs become weak and he drops to the ground. Voice graveled and thick with fluid barely mutters, _"…I hate myself…,"_ before trying to muffle itself out with an arm from bubbling sobs.

Emma… Emma can't interpret the scene unfolding in front of her. This was all too familiar. This pain… this violent noise that shouldn't be heard, _ever_ , is doing indescribable things to her. That sour feeling from long ago is now churning disgustingly within her, along with a plethora of needles prickling her heart. And the worse part is, or at least she thinks, is that these needles—these spindles delicately placed in the dank crevices of her heart that are supposed to be nonexistent to anyone, not even herself, are not torturing her enough. The cry… the cry of her baby boy—of her Henry—are manifesting the mother load of horrid emotion within her. What has she done?

This… this is unfixable. "Henry?" She honestly just shattered anything left between them. "Henry, please, look at me." It's done. "Sweetheart, please," her voice breaks as she lift his face, "look at me."

"Emma…"

"Henry? C'mon, kid, look at me. Please, look at me."

"Emma…"

"Henry? Henry?"

"…I hate you…"

"No, no you don't," she fervently shakes. "Everything's going to be alright. I promise it's all going to okay soon," she dives for a hug, "I promise I got you."

"…you're lying…"

"No, Henry I'm not. I promise I—" suddenly he begins pushing her off; Swan resists. "No, no! Henry, please!"

"Get off of me."

"Henry, please!"

"Swan, let him go," stresses Killian. "He'll be fine. He's strong."

"No, you don't understand! I'm not letting you go this time. I'm not making the same mistake."

"You're lying." Again he tries to detach her, much like Jay earlier.

"No! We need to talk about this, Henry. We need to clear the air right now."

"Just get off of me!"

"No, I—"

 _"Get off!"_ He roughly shoves her causing a loud thud to sound as her back meets a cupboard.

Confirming Emma's fine, Hook chastise's the teen and makes another reach.

"Don't touch me! Y-you're not my father, so just… just keep away!"

"Son, just calm down."

"Stop calling me—"

Emma intercepts. "Henry, please, let's just talk. All I wanna—"

"Stay away! I can't stand to—"

"Hear yer mother out, she knows—"

"Nothing! She knows nothing! Just leave me alone!"

"Henry, if you can just calm down for two seconds [grabs his arm] then I can—"

"LET GO!"

"No! I won't. I'm not gonna—"

"Son, calm down and—"

 _ **"** Stop calling me 'son!'_ _I swear, call me 'son' one more time. CALL ME 'SON' **ONE MORE FUCKING** TIME!"_

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Henry, please, just listen to what I have to say."

"You're a liar!" his voice breaks, as his skin heats from her tugging his arm. "You're a liar and I don't wanna hear what you have to say. So LET GO and—"

 _Henry…,_ chimes Her voice keenly, like a water drop echoing, _I love you with all my heart and I can hear the pain you're in, but please sweetheart, for your own protection, calm down. I love you and I don't want you to get hurt anymore than you are._

Instead of questioning this, but wanting to retain the melody of Her voice, he gulps and whispers, "With all of it…?"

 _So much that it hurts…. So will you do it for me? Will you calm down so I can keep loving you?_

"…" Lowering his arm from Emma, and reducing his anxious breaths, Henry feels his heart squeeze then steadies. He's calm. Every fiber in him is still and becoming relaxed. Everything is going to be fi—

"Thank you, son—I-I mean," _It slipped. It slipped, dear god it slipped,_ "Henry, for listening. Now if ye can just—"

The knife? Out of reach and too noticeable to obtain. The bottle? Also unobtainable and can cause injuries if grabbed wrongly.

Jade eyes scan, what does he do?

His palm itches, what does he grab?

His muscles contract, heart beating ferociously, what is he doing?

The pan…

 _He's going for the pan and—_

 _ **SWING!**_

Emma ducks. _*Miss*_

Dammit! A swing and a miss it hella was. Wait a minute… _there's momentum gaining!_

There's momentum gaining by excruciating milliseconds as the pan still swings full round and force, acknowledging the laws of physics as it becomes a blur.

Where's it going?

 _"What—"_

What's he doing?

 _"Did I—"_

Why isn't he calming? (Calm down!)

 _"Tell yOU—"_

 **DING!** and a **SMACK!** and a skin crawling **_SNAP!_** echoed horrendously through the air, slicing the particles themselves, hence causing immeasurable pure repulsive flinches.

 _"ABOUT CALLING ME SON?!"_ **Ding!** "You're a liar!" **Ding!** "Liar!" **Ding!** "LIAAAAR!" **Ding! Ding! Ding!** _Crunch._

" _MmmGghMm‼_ _My Nose! Jesus fucking—Get off of— **fffffffuuuuUUUUCK!** SWAN!"_

"Liar!"

"EMMA?!"

"Liar! Liar!" **Ding!** "Liar! LIAR! LI—"

"Hook, grab his hands!"

"WHAT?!" **Ding!** "HELP ME!"

"Just do it!"

Hook has a gushing crimson nose spewing faster than Niagara. Emma has handcuffs. And Henry…

"Hold him down!"

 _"I can't! I have **one fuckin'** hand!"_

"Henry, get off of him!" She goes into the fire and tries to strip him off.

"LIAR!"

 _"Get off of him!"_

 _"You're all **liars**!"_

 _"To hell with this!"_ By some miracle Hook is able to get a solid punch at the teen's jaw, putting an end to the beating and enabling Emma to yank Henry off.

"Henry!" she exclaims, but barely has a chance to utter anything else as he hurriedly stands and looks abhorrently at the scene before him.

Killian, soaked in blood all over his mouth, nose, and some apron, is flat on the kitchen floor moaning for his life and writhing. Emma, who looks drained and shaken and whose skin possesses an unhealthy pallor, is subtly panting, feigning to catch her breath, and is frozen staring up at her son.

 _"Henry…,"_ she breathes, sluggishly moving her limbs to stand.

But all Henry sees besides this are spots of color and a tilted view of the world. Everything isn't what it seems to be anymore, it's disoriented. Instantly he drops the pan as if it were scalding hot and takes timid steps back, not fully aware his mother making a slow crawl and reach for him.

"Henry, don't move," cautiously rises Emma like a predator.

Jade eyes travel over to her, searching. It's in vain he asks, also emptily, but he does anyway. _"Did you…"_

"Yes…. I did. I did, kid, I did." Pause. _He isn't moving. Okay, here goes._ "But you have to understand—"

Nothing. There's honestly nothing to understand or comprehend since Henry stumbles over himself steps back and scrambles to flee. It's only a matter of time before Emma gains traction too and in a desperate attempt lunges for her son's ankle, both now on the stairs. Clambers, light kicks, and infinite grasps take place with distorted creaks and squeaks followed by rushed stomping as they make it to the top. Emma has a firm grip on Henry in a blink of an eye before he shakes her off again then makes a dash and dive for his room, succeeding.

"Dammit! Henry, open the door!" she harshly bangs. "Henry?!"

* * *

 **~Cfys~**

"Henry, open the door. [knob jingles] C'mon, kid."

 _She killed herself._

"Please Henry."

 _With the gun._

"Come out so we can talk."

 _And lied the whole time._

"Henry?!"

 ** _Da doom_** ….

"Henry, open the door!"

 _How could she?_

"Open the door, please."

 _How could she?_

 ** _Da doom._**

[knob jingling] "Hen—"

"Why'd you do it?! Why did you kill yourself?!"

 _"_ …"

"…"

"Is it cos you don't love me?"

 _"No, god no. I just—"_

"Then what? What did I do for you to do this?"

Pause followed by weary sigh. "Nothing…, you did nothing."

"…you're lying…."

"I'm not, I swear to you I'm not. Kid, you just… you just gotta stop thinking the world's against you and understand—"

"I understand that you lied to me and everyone for 4 months! I understand that you kept a false case going for 4 months! I understand that you knew that Hook knew what you had done for 4 months! I understand that everything has been **a lie** for **4 months**! **You lied!** "

"Henry, please, just calm down and listen—"

"No! I am done listening and being told to calm down like a dog. You— **you** had all this time to tell me the truth. Me! Your son!"

"Yes! You are my son, and that's exactly why! I had to protect you— _I had to, I had to, I have to._ It is my duty as your mother to protect you from things that'll hurt you most! Henry, **I love you**! You have to see that! [knob jingles] Please, open the door [voice cracks] I have to be there for you, please."

"You lied though…," he rasps, noticing the lead ball in his throat yearning to become a sob.

 _"…I know. I know, god, I know."_ Her head lightly thumps the door. "What can I do? Huh? Tell me and I'll make it right, please Henry, I love you **so much** , just tell me what to do."

"I…I…"

"Please, just tell me."

"I need you…," he rakes his hair repeatedly. "I need you to stay away from me. You're… you're the thing that's hurting me most. I just— [sharp intake of breath] _Stay away._ "

"Henry," Emma starts slowly, cautiously, "just let me in. I know you're hurting, and I'm sorry for that. But it's not me that's hurting you, okay?" _Steady breaths. Steady._ "It's you. I-I know that you use to cut yourself," _Steady,_ "and you fee like there's nowhere to escape. But Henry, there's plenty of people to turn to that love you as much as me."

"No, there's not!" he shrieks. "They're all… [shaky breath] they're all dead!" He rests his hands atop his head, fighting against the pressure bubbling in his chest. It all just wants to come out; he needs to let it out.

"No. No, they're not. Henry, they're alive a-and well and just waiting for you to come to them. All you have to do is reach out. All you have to do is take that step."

"What step is there to take if you didn't take it yourself?! Huh?! A-at least I cut myself! You—" _Breathe, breathe._ "You committed—" _Breathe. Pace. Breathe. Pace._ "I can't! I-I… I can't!"

"You can't what, Henry? … Kid, please tell me. You can't what?"

 _"I can't—"_ his knees give out like putty, voice becoming straggly, and tears free-falling. _"I cAn'T do ThiS anYMore! NO OnE lOvES ME anyMooRE!"_

"No, no, no! [knob violently rattles] Henry—" she bangs the door intensely. "Let me in! I-I… You're not—"

 _"You think I'm a burden!"_

" **NO!** Don't say that!"

 _"You committed suicide because of me!"_

 _Doom! Doom! Doom! "Henry, please!"_

 _"Everyone's gone because of me! **You tried to leave me!** "_

 _"I swear I'm not tryna leave you now! Please, open the door. Open it, just open it, **please**! "_

 _"Everyone's better off without me! It'd be better if I were dead!"_

" **NO!** No, just—" _He's breaking. He's breaking. He's breaking_ _—_ _I can't let him break. I just can't!_ "Henry, step away from the door."

It's been quite a while since she's done it, let alone by herself without Her. But for the sake of her son and their relationship, anything goes.

Emma steps back from her son's door, ignoring her frantic heart, and holds her hands out channeling every and any speck of emotion involving love and care for Henry, in order to break down the door. She can do this. She is Emma Swan _—Savior;_ or more importantly, Emma Swan _—mother._ Henry needs her and that's that. Nothing else, nothing extra. Just pure unconditioned love for the little irresistible infant that caught her heart from day one and still clung onto it for the 10 emptiest years of her life. He chose to find her. He chose to bring her into his life and accept her for everything she is and will be. She wasn't just another plain and mundane statistic to him, nor a discarded sack of waste, no. She was his hero. She was what he idolized and gazed upon with such adoration like the moon does to the ocean 24/7. Always pulling her in, did he.

And she wants that back. Gods, she needs that back. Just look at her! Look at her…, she's drunk. She's drunk and is barely enduring the the wails of her son. She's drunk and tried to harm her husband. Hitherto she was only anxious and a bit paranoid, but since there's an entity that enjoys making already stressed situations more dire, here she is drunk (or moderately buzzed if honest) and playing the enemy. Christ…, her own son is spiraling into an unknown abyss cos of her! She is the one breaking their relationship, not Hook! Not anyone else. Just her. She did this and needs to fix it. She needs to fix the problem. That problem being her.

She yells out another assurance that she'll be by Henry's side in a second, ignorant and oblivious that the opposite is best for everyone.

Her hands out, eyes intent, mind focused and heart reeling leads to the tingles tingling her body all over. Palms begin warming and glowing the dimmest of white as the magic strengthens from there. Determination is nothing short in her as she concentrates on every cell in her body becoming uniformed and swept with the infinite love she has for this boy. It will work, it has to. Emma can't let him say such things where the world's better without him. That's just…, no! _Shake the thought off! Shake the thought off!_

Hands glowing, eyes intent, the thriving hum of magic coursing in her, everything is mixing dearly into the fascinating wonder called magic. And she's smiling. Emma's actually peeping a smile from something she hasn't been able to do right in so long. That's alright, though. It's all going to be alright and better once this door opens and she cradles Henry into her arms, soothing him like the infant he was and wasn't long back. Things are going to change. Things are going to get better. It's always darkest before the dawn, and right now she's going to provide the little glimpse that's needed to wake the sun from its slumber. Everything is going to be fine. Okay, even.

Everything is going to be o…

 _"Aaagh!"_

'kay. "Henry?" No answer. "Henry, are you okay?" She presses her ear to the door. "Kid?"

"S-stay away! Stay… agh! Just stay away!"

What did she do? "What happened? H-henry, what happened?!"

"…my…my hand… gah!" he hisses. "Just stay away, you keep hurting me!"

"What? Henry _—_ " right then she grabs for the doorknob, knowing well that it won't budge, and is smacked with the unexpected, literally.

From gripping the knob a quick flash of light flashes before her back fully slams into the wall behind her, then sliding down as she grits her teeth from the pain rippling. Her foggy head barely has time to discern the yelp ringing through her ears that wasn't from her, but from Henry.

Of who is also gritting his teeth trying to ride the pain flourishing through his ringed hand. He remains still, anguishing, but focusing on the physical torment he's in rather than the emotional.

Despite this, however, his mind too becomes dizzy as he hears Emma slowly rising and preparing another attempt at the door. It seems the more she tries to muster her magic, the more it hurts him.

"Stay away!" he yells, this time earnestly. He needs to get out of here. He needs to _—_

 _Doom!_

" **Agh!** " he cries, succumbing to the pain. _"Stay Away!"_

"I'm not… not gonna do dat…," tires Emma.

"You're drunk! Just stay away!"

"Just open da door…," _Doom!_ "Open the…," _Doom!_ "Just open da door!" _**Doom!**_

 _"Stop!"_

"Open the door, Henry!" **_Doom! Doom!_** _"Just open it!"_

 _"You're hurting me!"_

"I'm not, no." She shakes her airy head, feeling lethargic in her movement and words. "I'm helpin' you…," she takes a step back, raising her leg. "I'm savin' you!" Another kick, giving a _Doom!_ followed with another yelp.

Then silence.

Silence….

Silence.

"Henry?"

"…"

Reaching for the knob, but thinking better on it, she knocks. "Kid…?"

"…"

Something's not right.

"…"

"Henry?" _**Knock, knock.**_

"…"

"Henry, please say something. Tell me you're all right at least."

"…"

"C'mon, at most yell at me. Tell me to go away or something. Just… say something!"

"…"

"Okay…, okay on the count of 3 I'm coming in. If you're still there, say something, please."

"…"

" **1** …," _Breathe._ " **2** …," _Don't hold your breath, just breathe._ " **3**." Forgetting the consequences, she grabs the doorknob and immediately hears a hiss followed by a shrill cry, and then a piercing snap. All of it from Henry. The snap so crisp and shrill so piercing she can't help but let her mind grimly wander and breathing cease. This being her own consequence, cos now… now she's frenetic.

 _"Henry? Henry?! Henry! Henry! Please…."_ She rattles the brass knob in spite of the bass of her heart strumming against her ribs. **_Da doom. Da doom._ ** The rapping bangs and kicks at the door making nothing but racketing noise anguishing her tenfold. _Doom! Doom!_ And the despondent cries and snaps auditing through the air burdened Emma to possibly face a reality that seems sicker to the mind than her own suicide.

" _Henry, open the door_ [knob rattles]. _Open the_ _—" **Doom!** "Open the door!" **Doom! Doom!**_

Like mother, like son, yes?

 _"Open the door, Henry! Open the door!"_

The Queen was just a wispy breath away from Emma. So why not him?

 _ **Doom! Doom! Doom!**_

Revelations dawn.

 _"Henry, open the—"_

Especially for tragedies.

 _"Open the door!" **Doom!**_

Has it dawned to Henry—

 _ **Doom!** "Open the—"_

that for him to escape his tragedy _—_

"Swan, whad happenin' up dere?!"

he must draw the red curtain? Bid the world a final adieu?

 _'Slam the door open!' " **Henry!** " 'Slam it open!'_

Despite such ill thoughts, nothing withstands the notion that an addled mind, when justly despaired _—_

 _"The door!"_ **_Doom!_** _"Open the—" **Doom! Doom!** "Henry please! PLEASE!"_

is nothing short of fault.

 _"Hen—[she trips forward from the door unhinging]"_

Yet it can sure as hell get you out when needed, as for Henry.

"Kid?! Kid where are you?!" stumbles Emma in the room centralizing there's no body. That is until she notices the open window and hears slight rustling from below.

And that's when her heart joyously swayed plummeting to its death. Bittersweet was it.

Henry _—_ surely out and not limped on a noose nor draining red by his bed _—_ taking solace in the somber sky and lying face up, bruised in the bushes with a broken tree branch beside him, widens his eyes from Emma's voice and head peeping out the window. Her shimmery hair causing a panic in his chest. He doesn't register anything she says, but is instantly adrenalized with the basic physiological reaction of them all: fight-or-flight.

 _What do I do?! She's gonna come for me! Do I stay or—_  
 _Run!_  
 _But I—_  
 _Run! Run! Fucking **RUN**!_

Rising and struggling from the shrubbery, then wobbling and troubling a fine moment before catching some still sloppy footing, Henry dashes and from there is gone.

Not even wasting an outcry, Emma exits her way out the room, ignoring the trips and stumbles over the door, and glides her way down the stairs while reflecting off Hook's failed apology. "Henry's running, I'm going after him." She beelines for the coat closet not offering an ounce of attention to the pirate and grabs her jacket and the teen's scarf.

 _"Emma,"_ whines Hook with an apron over his nose, but is clipped from the front door shutting.

[" **White Winter Hymnal** " by Fleet Foxes]

Out in the muggy air, lurking fog, and biting wind, Emma zones the direction her son heads and takes off from there. She fully sprints, not even pleading for her random jogs to offer guidance, and in no time see's the back of her son's head.

"Henry!" she hollers, yards behind. She can see him swallowed in his jacket without his scarf stapled to his throat. _But that's what she has it for!_ If he can just turn around and _—_

 _"Stay away!"_

"But Henry _—_ "

 _"Stay the **hell** away!"_ he bellows, turning his head and alarming how close she is. The street lamps shining their orange glow on both peoples running down the deserted road.

"Not until we talk! I just wanna talk!"

 _"There's nothing you can say!"_ He takes a sharp turn and almost smacks into a lady.

"Henry, please, you have to understand _—_ "

 _"Just stay the hell away! What don't **you** understand?!"_

On this goes for stretching seconds before they're on another street with Henry increasingly panicking how close Emma is. If he can just somehow maneuver his way out her sight, or be granted a damn miracle somehow!

 _'How hard is it to lose her?!'_

"Kid, please! Slow down!"

Saying screw it, the brunet decides to detour, like his jump, and pray for the best where both persons get lost. This leads him from an alleyway to a backstreet. And as brilliant it seemed for someone to get lost, it truly didn't sink to Henry just how fit Emma was, regardless her zombic appearance. Literally she is feet away from clipping his heel as she frantically reaches out to grab his jacket. That is until Henry pulls a keen 180 and cuts 45 through (or trespasses) a resident's property and backyard, only to be brought back to another backstreet. Time falls by the grain as he thinks for the life of him on where to head toward in favor to ditch Emma. His eyes helplessly paddle from the endless, yet limited, routes to take; but to his avail, over yon jade eyes set upon their graceful safe haven. All he needs to do is floor it.

Emma, wheezing from the embers in her chest, also limitedly scrutinizes for her next route. Besides the dizziness flurrying around her, she's able to also settle upon where her chase will lead her, and from this cusses.

 _The fuck is in the woods?!_

"Henry, please!" she croaks _—_ rasps entwining with the wheezing. "You have to let me explain!" Her peripheral is blurring from aimed vision focused on Henry.

 _"Leave me alone!"_ Only sight in his vision is a barren wasteland that'll offer some coverage to escape this fucking nightmare.

Despite differing perspectives, this next part was the heart-palpitating fear of a seemingly never-ending path leading to something inevitably unanticipated.

It was him flooring it and her following. Then it was him stumbling and tripping _—_ her heart leapt for his welfare. Next there was a burst and cascading flow of relief in both because he was fine. He was fine, and well… they resumed their chase.

They resumed their chase and—

 _Scuuuuuurrrk!_

"Hen—"

 ** _BAM‼_**


	22. PLEASE READ

**Okay...** **why am I doing this? Shit, I dunno.** Not a hella introduction or whatever I know, but I'm just letting loose what's in my mind unfiltered. Lol, not even a giving a shit on the cussing I'm doing, cos you know what? I'm pissed, or rather disappointed in myself too. I freakin' let y'all down by leaving that cliff hanger on the prior chapter and I'm SO SORRY! It's been almost a year now and I Never meant for such time to pass. My excuse? Honestly, I should be the bigger person here and say that there is no excuse, but I can't say that. This whole year that's passed, since the beginning of 2017 really, has been... my goodness, I can't even put it in words. I'm not dead, is what i can say, and what y'all are obviously reading. But I can't say that the thought of death, personally, hasn't crossed my mind. Besides the angst there has been wonderful impacting blessings intermittently, and revelations as I become more independent. "More?" Yeah, yeah, I'm obviously young. Turned a "pivotal" age a year ago.  
Anyway... I've thought about y'all. On a constant too. I would login and refresh old chapter docs already uploaded and once in a while notice that there is still some of y'all still checking up on the story. ...i love seeing that. I love it so, so much. I love that you guys are still checking in, and I love knowing that there is still that positive reception toward this story you all have. It's a blessing i see it as. And... I need that in my life more than you know it. I keep going back and forth, to and fro, up and down, in the progression of my steps, and it's taxing. So much that it gets in the way of me writing this story for y'all. And I absolutely hate that, and again, I apologize that these personal events have gotten in the way of writing this story. But I'm not gonna focus on the hate and all that negative bullshit, that's not what this weird, random ass message is about. Nope. It is about my love for every single one of you, regardless if you're probably a douche. Yeah, i said it. I love all of you Cheerful Sinner bastards. ...bastards being me saying it in an endearing way of course ;) I love y'all, and that's why I'm giving this message: the story's not over. In fact, I'm just hella stuck on a certain part of the next chapter, which is about ~35% complete. 75% being that it's all written, and the remaining 25% being grammar and spelling.

So yeah. That's the message that maybe like 3 of you are gonna read. Yet idc, I know someone read it, and that's all I'm anticipating. I will most probably delete this when I do upload the next chapter. Goodness, I've had SO Much I've wanted to say to y'all the course of this break and have old drafts to prove for it, but i'm gonna stick with this while it's fresh and not... structured? Idk, i just had this urge to say something to y'all before y'all lost hope in this story when the year mark came. But, before I end this, **I do have a request.** I know I joked calling y'all Assassins because of y'all silence of no reviews, but _please, say something_. Idc if this sounds corny or whiny or some other biased shit, I just wanna hear from my readers. I've already explained how y'all are irrefutably important in this story and giving me hope that there truly is something special here, to help me keep writing this, so all I ask is to hear from y'all. And please don't give me a generic review like "Nice!" or "Good writing" or some other basic crap. I want actual genuine responses, like questions, thoughts, ideas. Like the most impressing review that comes to mind is the "Tick tock" reviewer pointing out how some of y'all will become lost with my difficult or poor ass plot back in the beginning of the chapters. Because of Savage (the name I've given them, no offense meant whatsoever, Savage ;) ), I've literally worked on constructing a better coherent plot, even if it still seems incoherent, i did work on that. "No shit, Chink. It's called constructive criticism." All in all, as much as I love y'all for checking in still, and even those that don't, I reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallly wanna hear from y'all. Besides the show being over, we still have this, Cfys, and bless it be the next couple of stories all as dark and twisted as this :) So please! **Review! Respond!** I DO login.

Anyway, I love you all, and I AM working on the next chapter, no lie (should be posted within a month, end of May at most), PLEASE REVIEW!

Love,  
~Chink


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